Guilty Gear X: By Your Side
by Piccolo Sky
Summary: Novelization of Guilty Gear X: By Your Side.
1. Prologue

**"** **Prologue"**

 _Nine Weeks after the Death of Justice_

* * *

"Deal, already."

If the young man from across his older companion heard him, he didn't notice. Instead, he twitched his head up and looked around. His eyes were wide, and to his older companion he looked like a spooked deer.

"You hear that?"

The older man grumbled and took his cigarette out of his mouth. "I said deal."

"There it is again. What the hell is that?"

"A damn screech owl, you f***ing idiot. Now are you gonna deal or am I going to have to take those damn cards from you and do it myself?"

The young man looked around a bit more, but then swallowed and turned his head down. He began to slowly deal out the cards, as if he had to practically command himself to do so. His grip shook as he put out each one, quivering like an aspen leaf in a gale. On seeing this, the older companion let out a scowl and put his cigarette back in his mouth.

"F***, man…you sure your balls dropped? You piss yourself tonight, I'm kicking your ass in there with her."

The young man shook so much at this that he actually dropped one of the cards. It was on his deal, and it was revealed to be an ace. In response, one of the other players, who was in the midst of picking up his own cards as each one came out, gave a whistle before putting them down. "I fold."

The fourth man of the group couldn't help but give a snicker at this, showing off a mouth full of rotten yellow teeth as he did so. The older one sighed again as he began to pick up his own cards. Nevertheless, seeing that one of the other players had a good advantage at the start, it made him think a bit more carefully about his own hand.

It was hard for him to see his cards that well, however. The only illumination they had in the unnatural forest was a small bonfire on the opposite side of his young companion. Since he was facing it, the glow naturally didn't uncover his hand that well. Nevertheless, he knew his young friend apparently didn't have the stomach to stay away from the light. He couldn't believe it. The man himself had actually grown up during the war. This young whelp hardly remembered it. If anything, he should have been the one who was cowering away at the moment, jumping at every noise.

The men were all dressed in older, more beaten clothing: a sign of people who weren't very financially well off in the world but weren't in poverty level either. They were folk who lived closer to the wilderness areas of the planet and scraped by making a small sustainable living. Each one had firearms next to them, but each one was hand-made, with only a few critical parts built to accommodate ammunition sold commercially. Each was loaded, and they also had knives or small hand weapons, like clubs or axes, nearby. The four were in the safest position at the moment, making up the western group of watchmen. They were the closest to the town proper, after all. It was the eastern group that not only were farthest from town but had to worry about being on the other side of the thing. It would have been enough to scare the entire group if she had just been standing there, looking vacantly out into space like all the others did.

But this one actually was walking…and _talking…_

Once the town had finally broken down the door to that shack where they were hiding her and found she wasn't there, it didn't take long to get the truth out of the old couple living there. Frankly, the man couldn't understand why they were hiding it. It was a monster. It had to die. Lonely or not, he couldn't understand how one could get attached to one of those things; knowing it could turn around and kill you at any time. However, what really made him mad, as well as almost everyone in town, was that they were keeping that thing…feeding it…looking after it…and knowing full well that it could have one day snapped and killed everyone in town. Because of that, he felt the two of them got off more than easy with a couple of broken ribs and some busted kneecaps. They should have been fed to it, as far as he was concerned. Once a few of that man's teeth were kicked in he did spit out they had hid it, so he supposed they deserved some credit for that…although he wondered how stupid you had to be in order to actually try to keep one of those things as a 'pet' or otherwise.

Following the Crusades, there were very few natural landscapes left. Most that appeared that way were either done so through cultivation or magical methods. When this was done, the areas were rarely "aesthetically" pleasing. With much of Earth reduced to a waste, you had to focus on practicality where the environment was concerned. Nevertheless, areas that had been low in population had managed to avoid some of the worst of the war. After all, there was no sense in razing an area where no one lived. If there was any natural landscaping left, it was usually either in areas that people had trouble making a living in, or had been rendered devoid of life early in the war and abandoned to slowly regenerate.

This forest, in truth, was somewhere in between. Historically, there was little record of what it had once been called, but the name at present was Schwarzwald. Located in the regions of Germany stretching to Eastern Europe, it had been mostly a chain of a few loosely connected patches of woods at first when the initial Crusades broke out. However, after being hit heavily by war and abandoned, much of them had time to grow toward one another. This was aided by the fact that it appeared some sort of Gear technology was employed in this part of the world. Destructive as Justice had been, even he had to realize that there would be need of resources to fuel his own empire and designs even as they focused mostly on eliminating the current "dominant species". To that end, some sort of technology had been put into play to grow large amounts of lumber quickly. It had been used on a large scale in the area they had rendered devoid of life, and it appeared to have worked. Currently, the block of forest ran a hundred miles north to south and four hundred east to west.

During the daylight hours, one would find this forest picturesque and lovely. There were no signs of ruins or rubble or rust or anything else that most "newly succeeded" forests possessed nowadays. It bore a look of true natural beauty. Most of the animals had moved back in at this point, and the streams and rivers that ran through the region were clean and clear. It could be a bit on the cool side at all times during the year, but with ample growth and a clear set of resources, it was still a nice reprieve from most of the rest of Earth.

However, the fact remained it was created by Gears, and that fact hung over it like a grim shadow. The trees there did indeed grow tall and thick; taller and thicker than what was natural. During the day, the sun shone through the leaves and would create rays of light against the forest floor in such a way that one would think it was from some sort of fantasy tale. But as night fell, the canopy almost seemed to thicken and grow so complete and opaque that long before the sun went down it would be pitch black within the forest. The creatures inside seemed to howl a bit too loudly, and the insects seemed to grow a little too large. It was so large and beautiful that it no longer seemed to be real but something out of a mythological world, and as such seemed a bit too dark and eerie to remain within.

Hence, although the forest provided a hefty bounty, both in terms of its own supply of food and game as well as providing large amounts of lumber for construction and woodworking, few people dwelled there. Even paupers would not risk moving there, preferring starvation. They couldn't stand to live in it. In the entire span of the forest, there were only two villages actually located within Schwarzwald. That was because they were along valleys leading out along natural paths that were forest free, and they themselves were in larger "clearing" portions, the only places that seemed to get natural light all day long. Even so, people rarely visited those and some even shunned them and feared them. This particular party was in a group from one of the numerous villages that lived on the outskirts of the forest, venturing only to the edge for their supply needs. Even then, it was frightening business. The edge of the forest alone was enough to make other people leave, and those who dwelled near the wood realized quite keenly that even when the largest trees were felled, a new one could rise into its place and stature within two or three years. That was enough to unsettle anyone. There was no doubts some sort of magical power ran in the wood, and it was beyond human understanding.

Due to how remote and fear-instilling the place was, it was a small wonder no one had known about the Gear until now.

There were about 40 people inside this area of the forest at the moment. That made up almost the entire male adult constituency of the nearest village, the one where all of this had begun. Groups of four were at each cardinal direction, as well as the directions in between. That left eight men to actually look after the thing itself. At the moment, this was all they could do. They didn't have special guns and swords…at least none that would work on a Gear. They had to contact someone with the means to get rid of it, and that would take time. Two men had already been sent off in the town's only truck to go to the nearest governmental branch to bring someone in to deal with it, but they would be gone until late tomorrow night or maybe longer. That left these people here to watch it and make sure it didn't escape.

Just the same, the older man wished that it hadn't ended up looking the way it did. He didn't care about the eight at the center of the grove working the monster over if they could, but he could see that some of the younger punks that had seen it and weren't that scared wanted to do a bit more than just smack it around. And they didn't have time for that nonsense. That was all they needed…losing it because some fool was trying to get off with a Gear, of all things.

He had only seen it briefly himself. To tell the truth, he was surprised. He didn't expect the thing to look so human… But that only made him hate it more. It probably made itself look like that on purpose; trying to get people to let it be…walk among them…until it decided one day to raze a countryside or two… He wanted to let his shotgun go off in its face; rearrange it so that it wouldn't look so much like one of them…but even if he could get close enough his weak, homemade firearm didn't have nearly the piercing power. He only hoped it wasn't recognizable as a humanoid by the time the government authorities got here to deal with it. He didn't want that damn cow-eyed expression on its face when it came time to blow its head off making any executioner hesitate to put a bullet in its brain.

The man shifted a bit in his old coat, shuddering a bit in the wind. Truth be told, despite his front, he hated being in this forest too. No one ever camped in the forest under normal conditions. Staying there with one of those things was only more nerve wracking. But they had to, and there was no use complaining about it. He only wished the seasons had hung on for a bit longer. They had one of the warmest early Septembers on record, and it had been very good for the growing season. But now it was November, and the seasons were changing rapidly. The trees around them were turning and occasionally a leaf or so would drift into the fire or on someone's shoulder (further spooking the jumpy young man). It was naturally cooler in this forest normally, but with a genuine cold chill blowing through the woods, everyone was moving closer to their fires.

Even so…it seemed to get even colder in the past few moments…

Shaking it off, the man picked up his other card and looked at it. Sixteen. On seeing this, he hesitated only for a second before looking up to the young man. He was finally picking up his own cards with his own trembling grip, but on doing so and looking at his total, the man noticed he seemed to calm down and almost smile a bit. That was more than enough for him.

Immediately, the cards went down. "I fold."

Their third companion, not quite as old or dirty as the one with rotten teeth, took the hint. He threw his down as well. "Me too."

The young man looked disappointed, and with a rueful expression put his cards down, revealing what everyone had believed from the start. An ace and a nine…twenty. He had to admit, frustrating as it could be, it was nice to play with someone who didn't have any sort of "poker face" once in a while.

Rotten teeth began to reach over and take up the cards from everyone, having to get up in order to walk around the fire. He had just finished collecting two sets of cards when the young man snapped his head up once again.

"You guys hear that?"

The third man groaned. The older one swore.

"Damnit, you piece of chicken sh't… Why don't you move back in with your old woman and get in bed with her?"

"I heard something real this time." The younger man went on, his eyes darting around the perimeter fearfully. "It wasn't no animal this time… It sounded like something…cutting…like someone put a sharp blade through a piece of paper…"

"I tell you what, man…" The third man spoke up. "I've had it with this crap. I ain't gonna sleep all night if this kid is going to jump at every little damn noise…"

"Boy…" The older man went on. "I'm about two f***ing seconds from tying you up and leaving you outside the tent tonight…"

"Wait! Listen!" The young man suddenly yelled.

Due to the sudden rise in volume, everyone did quiet down. It wasn't out of actually acknowledging the warning but rather his yell. However, the older man grit his teeth and made a fist. He began to seriously consider throwing the younger man in that cell with the thing. Maybe he could torture it by keeping it awake all night, assuming the thing slept…

However, a second later, and the older man did pause. He _did_ hear something in the silence. He hadn't lived next to a forest his whole life to not know what it was, either. It was the sound of a tree creaking…and not just from age either. It was the sound it made when getting ready to give all together. The others went still as well, no doubt hearing it too. The wind picked up around them. The creaking slowly grew louder.

The older man realized that when they made camp there hadn't been any "widow makers" in the area; large branches or bits of trees that were half rotten or barely hanging on. But aside from the fact that the trees in Schwarzwald never seemed to rot or break like that, there was the fact that he hadn't seen any on arrival…so why was he hearing this sound now?

As the noise stopped being carried on the wind and became distinctive, the noise suddenly registered in the memories of the four men. It wasn't an old tree creaking in the wind or something having come loose either. It was the sound a tree made when it was just about felled…and was falling over of its own accord.

The older man quickly turned his head to the left, just as the rest of his companions were turning as well. The third man, the one with his back to the actual noise, was still turning when he spotted it. A massive tree was falling down…right on top of them and their group.

Rotten teeth, opposite the third man, screamed. He struggled to turn and run for it. The young one gasped and scrambled back in a "crab walk" position. The older man himself let out a swear and pulled back. The third never got the chance to realize what happened. The creaking sound vanished as the tree went over the threshold and fell at full speed. Before anyone could do anything else, the massive trunk swung down and landed right across the third man, rotten teeth, and the fire. The older man yanked back as fast as he could, barely pulling his legs free, before he saw all three crushed…and the fire they had set immediately vanish in a flurry of embers. The most horrible sound he had ever heard rung in his ears; the sounds of two sets of skeletons being obliterated in a wet, crunching sound. Both the impact and the rush of air smothered the blaze and exhumed hot coals. Some of them landed on his legs and burned through the cloth, but he was too panicked from the sight and still pulling back when it happened. His mind ignored the pain and instead replayed the sound of bones crushing in his mind again and again…

When it came.

A figure, robed in ebony, like the Grim Reaper itself come to life, seemed to rip out of the darkness of the forest and appear on top of the fallen trunk. The old man saw something…something blood red and shining…dance out for the opposite side of the log where the young man was still scrambling. Another wet sound went out, this time the one of flesh being severed and blood spilling onto the forest floor.

The older man froze. His eyes widened. He opened his mouth to scream…

The last thing he saw, in the last light of the dying embers, was the figure turn to face him next.

* * *

 _"_ _We interrupt your regularly scheduled broadcast to bring you this breaking news bulletin._

 _"_ _The village of Hildebrant, Germany was shaken to its core two nights ago by a magical phenomenon of unprecedented magnitude with potentially grave consequences for the rest of Europe. Nearly half of the denizens of this village were killed that night by an individual of immense magical power, one that IPF investigators can only claim, at this point, was a fully functional, independently operating Gear._

 _"_ _Authorities cannot comment on how this Gear was able to function, its origin, or its current whereabouts, but local officers commented that after a thorough investigation of the area and numerous readings measured that they were forced to conclude no other alternative. Police noted that the victims were all the males of Hildebrant, age 16 and older, and that no property damage was caused as of yet. No other attacks have occurred since then._

 _"_ _The local populace within the Schwarzwald forest region is already feeling the impact from an early press release given to the German government. It is estimated that as many as 40 percent of the individuals living in the area have already evacuated, with more on the way. The local military is mobilizing but has already requested assistance from the France, Chinese, and United States governments in combing the forest area and locating the culprit, as well as neutralizing it. Diplomats in Germany declined to comment, saying that they were devoting considerable resources to the investigation of this event but would not make any further moves until they had conducted their own evaluation._

 _"_ _We now return to your regularly scheduled program."_

* * *

 _"_ _Good evening. Tonight's top story: the crisis unfolding in Schwarzwald._

 _"_ _A representative for the Post-War Administration Bureau, Lee Skinner, came before the press at 9:00 Eastern to issue a statement summarizing the report and findings of the Berlin Governmental Council. This assembly of world leaders and diplomats, originating from the United States, China, France, Germany, Russia, Indonesia, Australia, Egypt, Iran, and 20 other world governments met early this morning in an emergency session to summarize the gathered data from IPF and German officials and to make their recommendations with how to respond. We have the following sound byte._

 _"'_ _It is now confirmed, without question, that all collected evidence from the affected area indicates only one potential culprit, and that is a Gear of extremely high magical ability. The council has unanimously agreed to treat this situation as the first confirmed presence of a Gear attack in over a decade, and to be immediately handled as such. It is the recommendation of the council to take a multi-lateral, multi-national approach to dealing with this situation as soon as possible, with a priority on discovering the method by which a Gear was apparently able to become active once again or remain active following the death of Command Gear Justice._

 _"'_ _To that end, based on the low numbers of active military personnel in the region, the council members have agreed to pool resources from their respective governments and post a 500,000 World Dollar bounty on the head of this Gear, to be paid either upon the live capture and presentation of the Gear, or upon confirmation of the individual's death.'_

 _"_ _The major military player in the world, the Floating Continent Zepp, was notably absent from the council meeting. However, the council is not considering this a hostile move but rather a result of the recent revolution that occurred. A series of smaller rewards have also been posted as to any information pertaining to the location and capture of this Gear._

 _"_ _Tensions continue to rise in the days following this event. Reports of a mass exodus occurring in Germany are rolling in, with as much as 20 percent of the country now evacuated. Many are fleeing to neighboring countries which are straining to take in the emigrants, while reports of local crime leaders seizing power in the evacuated regions during the chaos have also arisen. Unfortunately, the PWAB cautions that this is likely to get worse in the next few days, since, as a result of the bounty being posted, what military figures have deployed there are lax on security, allowing an influx of bounty hunting groups…"_

* * *

"This is a mess…a real, honest to goodness, f***ing mess…"

"How bad is it?"

"How bad? What kind of question is that? A Gear, for god's sake…"

"It really is one?"

"Of course it's really one, you dipsh't. I'm not that much into this cloak and dagger crap. You didn't think I'd falsify this kind of investigation, did you? Besides, all the independent reports confirm it. It's a genuine one. Energy residue all over the bodies. This one's bad too…not one of those low-level bugs or reptiles… It's a city destroyer at worst… If it ain't a Gear, it's something a hell of a lot worse. Hell…I can't see why it stopped with just killing a few dozen…"

"It's just one, though. Surely it can be dealt with."

"Yeah? And who's supposed to deal with it? This ain't the Crusades. There's not a band of trained or experienced soldiers in a proverbial army ready to deploy. I've got to send in my men and women, and god help them when they get there and it starts butchering them up. I'm pulling a third of the force as is. They probably all need to hit it at once to stop it, but that's gonna take time and it's going to require pinning it down in one area. These dumbf***s in that damn council… They aren't gonna risk anyone in their militaries to do this while the IPF is around. They barely risked their money. That leaves me and my manpower, and a world full of civilians breathing down my neck to attack faster. Who's going to get the heat for everyone it kills? Half of Eastern Europe is already going nuts too. Rioting…looting…damn refugees… It's pandemonium over there. They're tearing apart the streets long before that Gear ever comes into town…"

"…Well then, considering all of that, I think this is more than a good enough time to deploy the prototype."

"…You told me you were still uploading the data."

"That's true, but if the area is going to be a demilitarized zone anyway, I think we could go ahead and deploy a few probes out there. Their data will provide everything we need to make a functional model."

"If that Gear's out there, we're going to lose anything we get. It'll tear apart all the probes and the functional model. It's not rated for this kind of threat."

"That's why we shouldn't attack the Gear first."

"…What are you saying?"

"There will be hundreds of bounty hunters flooding that area soon. Many of them will be highly experienced. Each one of them would provide a suitable target for the probes. The assassin guild might step in as well and offer more talent. No one would miss these targets. We could claim the Gear did them in and everyone would chalk it up to being par for the job."

"…You're saying that we should use this incident to obtain a few 'test cases', is that it?"

"I'm saying that it would look much better for your record to lose a handful of civilians who should have known better than to risk their lives so recklessly in the first place than a great deal of your own men, who you have to provide explanations for to both families as well as the press and any superiors."

"…"

"Am I wrong?"

"…Just make sure you get the data. And those probes better be deadly enough. All we need is a couple of witnesses getting away to turn your entire project into another pipe dream."

* * *

 _To be continued..._

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yes...FINALLY, after working on and off after seven years, I'm getting this out at long last. My original Guilty Gear novelization was one of my most popular fanfics ever. Now at last I'm doing Guilty Gear X.

I'll admit in advance I'm not entirely pleased with the result, and I'll warn in advance that this likely deviates in some ways from the various canonical fiction like Side Black as I haven't gotten into that...and if I did it would be pointless just to rewrite it. Nevertheless, I hope it's still enjoyable. Enough people seemed to like my first after all.


	2. The Gilded Cage

**"** **The Gilded Cage"**

* * *

Anji Mito let out a bored sigh. He reclined back in his chair a bit more before reaching up to pull at his neck. Truth be told, he found ties gagging and suits uncomfortable, but he preferred them to what he was "expected" to wear. He raised his eyes and glanced at the time. After doing so, he took his now empty glass and set it on the edge of the table.

Moments later, as if on cue, the servant walked up to him and made a graceful, respectful bow. "Yes, Mito-san?"

Anji frowned a bit more on hearing that. "Mr. Mito will suffice, for the hundredth time. And I'd like a refill."

Immediately, the older man's face turned to a bit of a regretful look. "My apologies, Mito-san. I have been told to only allow two drinks per meal effective yesterday."

Anji turned to the servant in surprise, and stared for a moment. Yet his shock soon vanished and was replaced by anger. Nearly swearing, he turned back to the table and set his glass down.

"May I get you anything else instead?"

Anji sat back a bit more and crossed his arms. He thought for a moment. "…A soda." He finally spat out.

"Very good, Mito-san. Any preference?"

"Yeah. One of the fancy Italian ones. I don't care which." He turned his head and grumbled a bit. "If they're going to force me to be dry yet still want to foot my bill, they better not expect me to make it cheap on them…"

The servant didn't answer. He never did. He just simply turned and immediately went off to do as he was told. Anji let out a sigh and kept his eyes on the door to the dining room, still awaiting his guest. It was just like him: call him out for dinner and then be late on coming in. All that greeted him for another few minutes was the kabuki-like images of old samurai decorating the door in gold leaf impressions. It almost made Anji sick to have to stare at their blank, white, eternally-grouchy expressions day after day after day…but such was life, if you could consider this a life at all.

Years before the Crusades had even started, biologists had already concluded something about the various species that were endangered on Earth that they had begun efforts to try and protect and preserve. Apparently, going purely "Noah's Ark" and ensuring that there was one breeding male and female was not sufficient. Genetic diversity was just as important, if not more so. Otherwise, the diseases or parasites that prey on the animal or plant species continue to evolve and kill them in one generation, or a sudden weather or environmental change catches them "off guard" in the evolutionary sense of the word and wipes them out as well. All species need an amount of genetic diversity present in their race to be able to create an opportunity for evolution or natural selection to act when outside pressures stimulate a species to change. If they don't, they can't change and are doomed to extinction.

The human race had begun to pursue more courses of genetic diversity when it came to endangered species, but this fact gained entirely new significance for mankind when they themselves became the endangered ones during the Crusades. It was a well known fact that humans are fairly genetically homogenous. Nevertheless, while humans may appear identical to a degree on the outside, what genetic material they possessed to survive diseases and the like that was less overt was none the less very important. Only some subspecies of human could drink milk as adults, for example, and only a few had certain blood types or resistance to the HIV virus. The sudden catastrophic loss of life during the Crusades as a result of Gears was not something that could be overlooked. Entire populations had been wiped out or, worse yet, went through a genetic "bottleneck"; reduced to only a few survivors. In these cases, even if the survivors had genes that were valuable for the human race, they often had the misfortune of having genetic maladies as well, such as Huntington's disease, cystic fibrosis, or type II diabetes. In this cases, having "pure" DNA interbreed with these people was extremely important; otherwise genetic defects would soon kill off that subpopulation of humans and the genetic diversity of value that they possessed would soon be lost for thousands…millions of years…perhaps forever.

One of the earlier countries to suffer the fate of genocide, and one that aroused more world-wide attention than many other similar ones, was Japan. Unlike other countries that had been heavily damaged but nevertheless managed to survive through hiding and taking shelter, there was no similar reprieve for that nation for one reason or another. It had been wiped off the map. Even before world biologists began to realize how horrific of a disaster this was for the human gene pool, the loss of Japan had meant a severe blow to the culture of humanity as well. Gone were any Japanese techniques in art or industry. Gone was any historical monument or insight into the past for that nation. It was seriously feared, and with good reason, after the catastrophe that the Japanese had gone the way of the Greeks and Romans…or, more figuratively, the Minoans who themselves were obliterated almost overnight, and were destined to be a dead race.

However, the world had been interconnected. Not every last item or person of Japanese origin was on Japan when war broke out. Data was still in computers, relics were still in museums, and, probably most importantly, a scattering of Japanese people were abroad when the country was destroyed. Not many, due to most people returning to their home nations prior to the war breaking out, but some with dual citizenship or fulfilling overseas roles managed to evade the apocalypse.

Early on in the war, they were simply left alone. Everyone had to look out for themselves, after all, and it seemed likely that all nations would soon go the way of Japan. Yet as the Sacred Order began to slowly make progress and reclaim areas of the globe for mankind, and organizations like the Post War Administration Bureau began to form, it was given more importance. As a matter of fact, it was the first country that had been closely examined to assess the impact of the Gear destruction. The findings were not good. As it turned out, most of the scattered survivors had been killed, and further investigation revealed some evidence that this was on purpose. It was assumed Command Gear Justice had realized a way to ensure human destruction was to reduce genetic diversity, and allow nature to finish the job even if he and his kin failed.

With less than forty percent of the world back under human control, a multi-lateral national agreement and ordinance was passed. All remaining descendants of Japanese ancestry were to be immediately found and relocated to designated "safe areas" far from the lines of combat and under what protection mankind could offer. All Japanese reliquary, data, and items were to be immediately confiscated and treated as objects of high value, and therefore locked away in underground vaults. At the time, most people considered this an act of mercy, of quickly coming to the aid of a dying race to save them. Nowadays, Anji thought of it more as the old US Concentration Camps.

To this day, he wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad that his grandmother had been a student teaching assistant in Italy when Japan had been annihilated.

At any rate, countries were given huge financial incentives from the PWAB at the time to carry this out, and so it was done. In the process, many locals, antique dealers, and collectors throughout the world earned quite a bit of money for handing their prized Japanese materials over to the governments as well. The Japanese people themselves were placed in colonies and on pensions of the government themselves. They were no longer required to fight on the main lines or against the Gears, and furthermore were no longer required to scrape by for food, lie in gutters riddled with disease, or worry about being cold or hot and without shelter. From now on, they would live in the safest parts of the land and have everything taken care of for them. They were only encouraged to continue to study or research their own country's past, so that in turn they could be "suitable custodians" of the history for the future.

There was mixed reactions among the Japanese. Some of them, among them those fortunate enough to still have children, were grateful and took to it eagerly. Others not so much. A few of them had been in the Sacred Order themselves, and had argued that it made little sense to worry about protecting one race when the entire human species was in danger, and wished to return to fight. Where some saw this as a godsend of protection and were grateful for not having to live in poverty or terror anymore, others saw this as just a glorified prison. In the early days, that's mostly what it was too: a few barracks and three rations a day.

It figured that, before long, the displeased ones began to leave the compounds. Although the governments were ordered to put them there and protect them, they were told to avoid hurting them in any way, and hence it was hardly difficult to escape. Truth be told, the governments were afraid of sending soldiers to reclaim "walk-offs", scared that doing so might indeed make them look like prisoners and, in turn, cause more walk-offs. Luckily for them, they found a solution. Large cash incentives (or bounties, as Anji preferred to think of) were placed on anyone of Japanese descent. Whoever brought one in, for "safekeeping", was entitled to a hefty sum. With yet another opportunity for money in a bedraggled world, it wasn't long before some bounty hunter groups formed that catered exclusively to finding Japanese descent people and bringing them in. Those they brought in weren't always Japanese (apparently, all Asians looked the same to many people), and even if they were they weren't always full blooded, and even then…the methods of "acquisition" were likely rough and damaging. However, the bounty hunter groups soon realized a good way to make money was to simply camp outside the colonies and await escapees; moves that governments casually allowed. Some of them grew angrier yet at this, reporting that the governments essentially had hired mercenaries to beat them into submission and drag them back. This, unfortunately, created another aid for their caretakers, who then put up large walls with guards posted around the colonies to "ensure no further harm occurred to the Japanese". It also made it far harder to escape without being seen.

Not long after that, seeing the Japanese unrest, as well as the fact that the world was coming more and more back under control, officials began to improve colonies. Barracks were torn down and replaced with houses. Food became chef cooked and better seasoned. As time went on, houses were torn down and replaced with mansions, and food became stuff you could only get in an expensive restaurant. Gardens were planted, all in Japanese style. Cherry trees were cultivated and artworks and sculptures decorated the colonies. Fine clothing was provided, and soon the Japanese were living lives better than most of the rich people left on Earth.

People would come in on (supervised) visits and would marvel at the colonies, saying how they were genuine recreations of old Japan. They applauded each individual government, but gave highest praise to those who invested the most into giving the most to their Japanese colonies. Hence, a sort of "luxury race" began between nations to see who could "care for" their Japanese charges the most. The colonies became more like palaces, and as the war boiled down only more and more was able to be invested in them. The Japanese that had been angry at first slowly simmered down. Some of them began to adjust and simply settled in. Others who had acquiesced to the situation to begin with felt like they had been blessed by Heaven. Almost all of the new children who were born, as well as the next generations, took to the situation and accepted it as real, proper, and normal. They lived happy, secure lives, and as a result gave birth to even happier, even securer…even more contented…children.

And yet unrest never fully left.

Anji didn't need to be reminded of the old days or told horror stories about bounty hunters…about how sometimes rather beaten Japanese women would be brought in and then give birth to babies nine months later that were clearly not full-blooded Japanese… No…

For him, he only needed to look outside the window of his exquisite room with rice paper walls, bonsai trees, and elegant artwork and stare out on the horizon, and see that, despite the fact that it was ornamented, overlain with gold in places, and had been made out of natural stone and architecture to make it look like the outside of a regal palace…they were always surrounded by a large, thick wall.

The door suddenly creaked. Anji looked up and saw the doors slide apart from one another. He doubted that the "old ancestors" in Japan had incorporated automatic sliding doors into their palaces and pagodas, but he didn't dwell on that. He was far more concerned about the man who was walking in…Mick at last. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he had grown lost in thought, but it appeared that his drink had arrived at some point. Ignoring that, for he hated the taste of sodas anyway, he watched the entrance instead.

Mick was dressed much the same way as Anji was, but it wasn't unusual in him. He always wore a black suit on visits. He took a few steps inside the dining room, looking fairly pleasant and regular, with a small attaché case at his side. Yet as he stared at Anji, his look turned a bit more downcast. Anji knew why. In fact, that had been his intention. Some people had the idea that the Japanese should "look the part" on these visits, wearing only traditional clothing and the like. While Anji owned quite a bit of such material and he did indeed prefer it, he would gladly suffer a tight collar if only to cause a bit more displeasure. It was a way of silent rebellion in his eyes.

At any rate, Mick adjusted to it after a moment, his smile returning, and made his way over to the chair. Before sitting down, however, he gave a graceful bow to Anji, much as the servant had done moments ago. Anji repressed the urge to sigh at this.

"I'm glad you were able to meet me for dinner on such short notice, Mito-san."

Anji let out a bit of a sigh. "Oh, you know me, Mick…" He answered. "Busy, busy, busy all day long with _so_ much to do, but what can I say? I make the time."

Mick grimaced again. It wasn't just due to the fact that Anji's sarcasm was being lain on thicker than rich syrup. It was the fact that Anji enjoyed making Mick squirm again by speaking in an English accent. To preserve "purity" of the Japanese race, great care was taken into the manners, style, and even voice dialects used around the Japanese born in the colonies. They wanted them all to speak an accent in all of their terminology just like their ancestors did. For a while, when Anji was younger, there was even some debate on not letting the Japanese learn any other language at all…a thing that might have made Anji attempt to escape as well had it come to fruition. The man wasn't about to give light laughs and polite bows of apology to any English speaker when he switched the "Rs" and "Ls". That would sicken him more than imprisonment.

Mick pulled the small chair aside soon after…if you could even call it a chair. They were some of those seating cushions for low tables. Anji hated to get on his knees. He had circulation issues and they always went numb. At any rate, he continued to sit there as Mick came up. As soon as he was seated and his arms at his side, the servant immediately stepped back up to them both and made another graceful bow. Trying to smile again, Mick spoke up once more.

"What will you be having tonight, Anji?" He asked, at least compromising on the name.

Unfortunately, Anji was still in a mood. "Well, I don't know. Am I getting too fat as well? That may restrict my menu choices."

Mick's grimace returned. He quickly turned to the waiter and placed an order for an appetizer, getting him to move away. The man gave a graceful bow yet again, and then quickly shimmied off, not giving his back to the two until he was a distance away. Once he was gone, Mick himself sighed and bowed his head, seeming to finally abandon the false pretenses. He looked up a moment later with a critical stare.

"You _have_ been drinking too much."

"Does someone cut _you_ off at home when they think you've been drinking too much? "And this is my home, isn't it?"

"You've been hitting the bottle too hard and too often. We're afraid you might starting to be becoming dependent. Not to mention what it has to be doing to your liver and your brain cells…"

"What are you, an after-school program?" Anji cut off with an angry look. "My mother? If I'm going to be forced to live here, I should at least get the same privileges as anyone else. What if I do become an alcoholic? What if I decide to drink myself stupid or into a liver transplant?" Anji gave a snort as, despite himself, he reached down and took up the soda and began to undo the bottlecap. "You guys will probably hack open some orphan to get it for me anyway, won't you?"

Mick sighed. "Please don't start this again, Mito-san. It's…"

"My _name_ is Anji Mito, or Mr. Mito. I was born in the US, wasn't I? And they do speak English here, right?"

Mick stiffened and swallowed. "…Anji…we're only wanting what's best for you."

Anji rolled his eyes at that. "Oh my god…you guys _are_ my mother."

Mick frowned, but shook his head as he turned to his case at his side. "You know…I'm not supposed to say things like this around you…but have you ever wondered how many people would kill to have the sort of life you're enjoying right now? You're practically royalty. You get whatever you want, whenever you want. You don't have to worry about starving or scraping by or anything else."

The man leaned back down to look at Mick. "Well maybe I _want_ to worry about starving or scraping by…or earning money or buying my own things or being called 'mister' or walking around grime-laden streets or drinking myself into a hole in the ground. You ever think about that?"

Mick shook his head. He muttered something as he continued to work.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me. What?"

"I said it's nothing."

"You know you have to answer my questions?"

Mick sighed as he finished opening his case and reached inside. "Alright, I'll tell you. My superiors are going to rip me a new one for saying this out loud, but I'll just tell them that you told me to say something. I said I think you're spoiled rotten. You have no idea what it's like out there."

Anji shrugged. "I could find out. And go ahead and insult me." He leaned back and took a guzzle of the soda. "I prefer being insulted to being BSed."

Mick sighed one more time, but then turned his head over to Anji and seemed to get some of his business air back on himself. He straightened up and adjusted his tie with one hand while pulling out some sort of thick file with the other. "Anyway, like I said, I'm not going to argue about this. I've been putting this off for quite a while, but the upper heads in the department finally got down on my case and said to get it accomplished before the day is out. So here it is."

The man leaned over and placed the file in front of Anji. His eyes looked down to it, but saw nothing other than it was navy blue and was quite blank. He looked back up to Mick.

"What is it?"

"Gene Diversity Program." Mick answered. He indicated to the file. "Go on, open it up. Look around and make sure to smell the packets under each one. You'll have to write down which three you like the best."

Anji crooked an eyebrow. However, seeing as that was all Mick said, he looked back down to the file. He finally reached for the side, grasped it, and opened it wide.

It took only a moment for his pupils to dilate and his mouth to slacken in response.

 _Gene Diversity Program…_

Mick reached out and pointed to the first page. "Personally, I think she's rather lovely. And she shares a lot of your personal interests. Ancient dances, modern science, geography, mysteries, all of that. However, you really need to smell to see if you like that. It's the easiest way to find out."

Japanese women. Opening it up exposed Anji to two pictures of two different Japanese women. It was a dossier of sorts, and it included lots of textual information, in particular which colony they came from and their names. Each one, however, also had a packet underneath their picture. Anji stared blankly for a moment, but then reached out to the corner and turned the page. Two more different women there. Another turn. Two more different women. Each one had a packet.

 _Gene Diversity Program…_

An old science lesson he had back in high school grade courses as the colony popped in his mind.

 _Pheromones: Chemicals secreted by the female of a species to attract potential mates. It is thought that these not only act as aphrodisiacs of sorts to entice the male and bring him to the female's location, but that scent information within the pheromones confers a sense of genetic identity. The more attracted a male is to a female is based on how genetically different they are, and therefore will produce the most variable and viable offspring. It is believed that humans possess pheromones to some degree as well, as based on this famous experiment where…_

 _Gene Diversity Program…_

"…What the bloody hell is this?"

Mick's face fell again, but this time not just from disappointment. It was out of concern…and fear. That was because the man he was looking at had been frozen in surprise only a moment. Then his look briefly turned to horror…before turning red with rage. A moment after that happened, he finally acted.

In one huge movement, Anji reached out, slammed the file shut, and proceeded to yank it off the table and throw it across to the side of the room. He broke a glass and a plate on doing so, sweeping them off the table and shattering them, but he didn't care anymore. The file struck the wall and immediately broke. The "candidates" on each page began to spill out and flutter as the file fell to the ground.

Mick watched this, but on looking back at Anji saw him push up from the table and rose.

"You want to 'selectively breed' me, is that it? Like a cow?! You put these women in front of me to pick out which 'mare' is the best one to get impregnated by the 'stud'?"

Mick paled a bit. He put up his hands defensively. "It's not like that, Anji. This is more of a dating service… Which person you think is the one you'd most likely want to go out with…"

"Now you're deciding who I marry?!" Anji spat back, cutting him off. "Why don't you people just give me a lobotomy while you're controlling everything else?!"

Mick swallowed. He gestured over to the fallen file. "All of those are just other Japanese women from other colonies. All of them are single…"

"All of them are pigs, and so am I!" Anji cut off.

The man pulled at his collar. "I knew you wouldn't like this that much…that's why I tried to put-"

"You don't know anything, you got that Mick?! You don't know a damn thing! No one put some book of cattle in front of you when you started dating and said, 'Here, pick the one who makes the best babies'! You go to hell, you hear me? All of you can go to hell!"

Without another word, Anji turned off, stepped over his cushioned chair, and stormed out of the room.

He ran into the servant on the way out, bearing the appetizers with him. He made a point to run into the man and throw the tray up in his face as he left.

* * *

Anji was a second generation Japanese "national treasure", and had spent his life growing up in the colony. They still used that term: "colony". Technically, each parcel of land where they were established was co-owned property of the government and the former nation of Japan. However, that meant little. There were no Japanese governments to claim ownership of the land, and there was no indication of when any move would be from these colonies back to a home territory. Logically, it made no sense. Why create yet another nation that would take up what valuable, fertile, and usable land was left to potentially be a hazard and contentious in the future?

Anji may not have been as involved in the world as regular people, but he knew of this none the less. It was his nature. All of the Japanese usually learned a trade or skill or science, usually pertaining to their old country. Anji, however, considered himself something of a Renaissance man in that regard. Ever since he was a boy, he used the fact that he had nearly total ease and freedom in life to pursue knowledge on every subject he could attain. He'd like to say it was to better himself or for some nobler goal, but the truth was it was almost selfish. He simply was curious about everything. However, as he came into adolescence, he focused less on the more "cold" part of knowledge, such as facts and experiments and physics and chemistry and what have you, and more on the abstract side. Tactics, politics, social studies, psychology…those sorts of things. Things that would concern everyone at all times whether subconsciously or non-subconsciously.

Though he had rarely been out of the colony (save on visits to other rich areas were wealthy and/or noble guests had soirees with hundreds of bodyguards keeping anyone not invited a mile away or the occasional sightseeing trip), Anji knew much about "life on the outside", so to speak. He had spent long hours studying things about normal life, from items such as the main expenses for a family of four to absolutely mundane things such as proper etiquette for walking down the street. As a result of it, he seemed to be very keen for when things were out of the ordinary. At least, he did in the mystery books he read. He almost always managed to pick up on clues before the sleuths or detectives in the story did, and he managed to piece together quickly what they had meant. He had to say that he was rather proud of himself in that regard.

However, it did lead him to frequently spend time in his room, ignoring playing outside or walking the gardens or any other kind of physicality for the sake of reading and study. His mother and father hadn't liked that, wanting him to do some sort of activity. When basic encouragement hadn't worked, they pretty much ordered him to enroll in at least one physical-related activity before the month was out. Really not caring for it, he somewhat half-heartedly eventually requested ceremonial dance. Well, it soon turned out he had failed to call his parent's bluff when he had to report in for his first day of training.

Anji soon learned a hard lesson: dance was most certainly not an "easy" exercise. It was just as physically demanding and taxing as any other sport or activity, especially with a strict instructor like he seemed to have. The old man appeared to be out to prove himself…or at least to instill some sense of challenge and struggle in his otherwise easy life. He demanded perfection and dedication from each of his students, and ran it with such discipline that Anji might as well have enrolled under a samurai. The young man spent many painful, sweaty hours making proper balance, engaging in flawless moves, worrying about his body being in ten different correct positions at once, and generally going again and again on certain moves until he couldn't even stand. For all his strain, he was constantly criticized, torn down, embarrassed, and only rarely got a comment along the lines of, "I suppose that will do." He supposed he could have dropped out…but he didn't. The truth was, he enjoyed it in an almost masochistic way. It was something he actually had to work for to succeed at, not something that was just given to him.

Therefore, as the years went by, and Anji continued to work, he felt a true sense of accomplishment when the instructor began to give him genuine praise. It started off grudgingly enough. Occasional comments of "It took you long enough to get that pose right, Mr. Mito" or "It seems you finally found a maneuver you're good at". The true praise only came when other students entered the program, and the instructor would grow exasperated and angry with them and finally say, "Mr. Mito, come up here and demonstrate to these crippled swine a proper half-step, bounce, change." As time went on, even his peers were told, "Watch Mr. Mito here and if you struggle to imitate him you might actually manage something half-presentable." It showed Anji that, grumpy and strict as his teacher might be, he was doing well and impressing him even if he wouldn't mention it. Finally, at long last, when performances were scheduled, the old man gave him the highest amount of praise by putting him on the hardest, most complicated, solo performances.

Anji himself excelled at a technique of dancing with fans. It was weird. Normally, he didn't go for all of the ancient customs and ways of doing various things. He felt it was a waste of time in the modern world. And yet he enjoyed this. He didn't think that something such as fan dancing would appeal to a man like him, one who enjoyed study and furthering his own knowledge, but he found it helped him to focus incredibly well. It seemed to clear his mind whenever he did it, even if the performance was highly taxing.

Once he had grown to the most advanced levels in dance, Anji attempted to diversify outward, looking to the other martial arts of Japan for focus, control, and self-discipline. He was most relieved to see that these arts too required one to deny oneself and commit to hard work and labor. He almost wished they were mandatory for all of the residents in the colony, especially the ones who simply lay around and grew fat from the government's coddling all day long. Surprisingly enough, the "senseis" may have thought they were tough, but compared to his old dance instructor they were small potatoes. His trial by fire in the performance troupe was more than preparation enough for the discipline required for martial arts. He continued to improve both physically and mentally as a result.

Nevertheless, dance remained his one true love, and what gave him the most focus and peace. Martial arts were fine and good, but they never seemed to take the true place of dance in his life. Still, he enjoyed the fact that martial arts were also a way of making his body into its own perfect defense, and he had such affection for that aspect that he had begun to develop a sort of technique of his own; something that actually combined his ritualistic fan dancing with martial arts, unbelievable as it seemed.

However, he had not arrived at this choice on his own, he had to admit. He had only truly gotten the idea…when he first used _them_ in a performance.

It had been a few hours since Anji stormed off from dinner. Although he was hungry, he refused to indulge it. Instead, for some time, he had sat in his room, brooding and musing over what he had seen and where he would go from there. Many times did he think over his life there, but never until that night did he think so hard on it. Not when his fate seemed so clear to him. Anji was not a fool. There was some wisdom to what the people on the outside said. Life was by no means easy in this world, and it was not kind. Here, there was definitely security and peace, and the freedom to pursue any knowledge or craft that he cared to apply himself to without having to devote time to such things as food and shelter. There were indeed many poverty-stricken individuals who had their lives ruined by pain and suffering who would want his life and would gladly accept the consequences of his fate for the chance to live there.

However, Anji was not one of the many poverty-stricken individuals. And knowledge or art form was useless if it could not be applied. Here, no matter how talented or intelligent one became, it would always be forever wasted in a safe, neutral environment that offered neither critique nor praise. It might have been easier here, but challenge in a life was what built character and made a person. An easy life free of hardship may have enabled a self-driven person to become whatever they wished, but it would always be a cheat. Cheapened and lesser. Always more inferior to one who did it by the sweat of their own labors. None of Anji's intellect or learning would mean anything unless it could be put to the test. Nothing of who he was or any skills he had acquired would matter unless applied to the real world.

Those were the rational reasons for making his decision. But the far more impulsive ones were what drove him on. He realized now that he was indeed becoming an item of livestock. They all were. Their only purpose was to breed superior animals and then die. Their captors need only keep them content until they bred and increased their number. They were nothing more than creatures in a zoo and no matter how splendid or naturalistic an enclosure could be it would always and forever be a zoo, and always inferior to reality. Mostly, however, he couldn't stand the idea of possibly adjusting to that idea any longer. That frightened him more than anything. To even sit here was like being a dumb cow waiting to be slaughtered, in his mind. He could bear it no more. He had to get out.

And in knowing that, he finally found his first true challenge to pit against his intellect and learning.

One did not simply walk off of the complex. Although he was technically not a prisoner, the guards around the colony would not stop until he was dissuaded, and would pick him up and return him if they caught him once outside. That was, assuming, that he could get by the large stone walls surrounding the complex and avoid both the floodlights and the eyes of guards that surrounded it. If they failed, the bounty hunters who no doubt were waiting outside of the complex for any escapees would soon grab him and make quite a pretty penny off of returning him inside.

Numerous liabilities, but the main problem itself was getting clear of the complex. Once that was resolved, he would be able to stay in the clear…at least, so he hoped. Much as he had studied outdoor life, he was never immersed in it before, and what few glimpses he had of it were skewed in favor of his rich lifestyle. Nevertheless, he would have to worry more about that after clearing the complex and surrounding security, official or otherwise.

With that in mind, Anji rose from his spot on the floor for daily meditation and made for his standing wardrobe. He kept the room dark as he did so, and went in bare feet with his practiced poise. As far as anyone else was concerned who might be in or near the building, he wanted them to fully believe he had gone to bed. A simple ruse, to be sure, but Anji had been angry with them before and had stormed off. Maybe never to this extent, but he had never given them any reason to believe he would attempt to leave the colony. There was some light coming in through the nearby window via the electric lights around the colony, some of them being the floodlights near the wall, and it provided enough illumination to his adjusted eyes to see inside the furnishing when he arrived.

Most of Anji's things were kept in a dresser or trunk, including his clothes. However, he did enjoy his dance and took pride in it. His special uniforms were kept in an area all to themselves, namely this dresser. Now, they were all set out in front of him. However, he did not look for one particular uniform. Rather, he began to look over various parts of them. Not long after, he began to reach in and pull off various items from the different uniforms inside the wardrobe, slowly making a new outfit.

He had planned on this for some time. Before tonight, he had always thought he might need a change of clothes if he ever planned to escape. However, though the people in the colony might not have had "prison uniforms" in the usual sense of the word, their attire was none the less conspicuous. Most of their clothing was encouraged to be of Japanese style and fashion, and was usually so detailed and well made that they'd stick out like a sore thumb if they went anywhere. Even what bits of clothing they owned that weren't Japanese in type was very fine and made of excellent materials. It was obvious that none save the rich could afford to wear such finery, and those who did wear it usually didn't wander around in shadows attempting to go somewhere without being seen. In either case, they would be easy targets for guards or bounty hunters.

However, through much research and careful watching on nights where Anji claimed he was stargazing but truly turned his telescope down to the woods surrounding the colony, he managed to slowly pick up enough fleeting glimpses of various bounty hunters going about the woods to get an idea of their uniform. Only one of the more flamboyant groups caught his attention, but it was a bounty hunter group none the less with specific dress. Once he had figured out how they appeared, it was a simple matter of requesting an entirely new dance costume wardrobe, each costume specifically picked out and tailored to a certain style and color. Individually, each costume was loud and a dead giveaway. But certain pieces…a sleeve wrap here…a geta there…when combined produced a desired result…

When Anji was finished, and had dressed himself, he paused in the mirror long enough to admire his handiwork. Blue "boot" getas with a white flap covering the shoestrings, loose blue and white pants with a long, black cloth belt, an extended length of fabric stretching behind him from one arm to the other with bands around his forearms, and white forearm covers similar to fingerless gloves. Topping that off was a white headband keeping his spiky, black, unkempt hair from his face, and a pair of nose-pinching reading glasses. After all, he was a bit farsighted.

Close up, this uniform appeared to be little more than another dance costume of independent making. Far away, however, and under cover of darkness, it would closely resemble the more flamboyant uniforms of one of the bounty hunter groups he had spotted roaming around the outside of the colony area. With a little luck, it would be more than enough to sneak by so long as he looked as if he knew what he was doing. However, just in case he was approached…

Turning away from the mirror, Anji looked back to his bed once more. He moved over to it, bent down to the side, placed his hands against the mattress, and proceeded to push hard, removing it from the floor beneath. Yet another useful thing about having a room of Japanese style: the tatami mat. The way they could be placed on the floor, no one would ever realize if there was wood beneath or something else…like a hole. He proceeded to remove one that was placed beneath where his head would lay, and soon he exposed a break in the floor, in which a small case of obsidian color and texture had been put. He quickly pulled it out, but seemed to devote extra care into putting it down on top of the mattress next. With extra careful movements, he undid the latch on the case and opened the simple wooden cover, revealing what was inside.

Set inside velvet on special hard cushions to keep them from moving around were a pair of collapsed fans. Their design was unremarkable. Dark color which appeared to be nearly black. If unfolded, they were revealed to possess three orange-colored diamonds on each, one large one in the center with two smaller ones flanking them. They had some sort of mild luster about them, and they did appear to be made of some sort of metal. Other than that, they appeared to be utterly normal fans without anything special in them.

Anji, however, knew better. Anyone did who grasped them. Although they seemed lighter than any normal paper fans he might use, they never seemed to yield to the wind or breezes generated by movement. Even when fully outstretched and making a performance turn, the air never seemed to catch against them. Furthermore, they were strong. They were flexible, but Anji had never seen them bend or tear, even when he accidentally did some sort of inappropriate move from time to time that long would have torn any other fan. Out of curiosity, he had secretly taken a claw hammer to one at one point to see their durability, and for all of his pounding and tearing he had failed to dent, scratch, or even mar the fans. The hammer, on the other hand, was another story. It had gotten quite beaten up before he was done. Anji began to wonder if they would stop a bullet. Furthermore, the fans almost seemed to respond to his movements sometimes. Like when he lost his grip during a performance, the fan would almost seem to remain "glued" to his hand until he regained control. And sometimes, they seemed to open more due to his desire rather than his actual manipulation, almost as if they read his mind.

Driven by curiosity about them, Anji had taken them out when he was first creating his new style of martial arts. He attempted to do something he had tried with paper fans until now; to use them as a sort of boomerang to lash out, stun a foe, and come back to him. He had only had moderate to no success with paper fans but these ones did it flawlessly every single time. Not only that, but when unfurled and swung like that, Anji was surprised to see one of them strike a wooden beam at one point, and to slice through so cleanly and easily that he didn't even realize it had done so until further, close examination. He tried using the outstretched fan as a "blade" once again not long after that event, and soon found that the fans were capable of cleaving wood, stone, and even iron without becoming the least bit worse for wear. Anji was justly amazed.

The fans, unlike any other fans he had ever known, were given a name: Zessen. The people in the colony valued them as extremely valuable, almost legendary artifacts. Anji, however, believed his experiments had led him to have a much greater respect and understanding for such items than anyone else there. Because of that…and because his need for them was great…he felt somewhat justified in taking them. Besides, one of the mysteries he planned to solve once he was out of the colony was to find what sort of craftsman could make such fans and why they would consider the fan to be the ideal mold for a weapon…something he began to suspect more and more each day was the true purpose of the fans.

Anji took both collapsed Zessen fans up and grasped them tightly. With that done, he rose and began to carry out the next phase of his plan…

* * *

Within two hours, Anji Mito was walking the streets a mile away from the colony, and was rather pleased at how his plans had gone over so well: considering them evidence that his study had been well applied. Sneaking out of his home had been easy enough. After all, they couldn't put a guard there without definitely giving the impression of imprisonment. The grounds had enough shade and dim lights for someone such as himself to sneak toward the wall.

The next part was somewhat more problematic, but resolved in a surprisingly simple way: evading the guard. There were four main entrances to the wall, but the entire perimeter was guarded. It was impossible to jump or scale in any short length of time. And though Anji would have been interested in seeing if so was possible, he lacked the time or security needed to see if the Zessen fans could slice him a way out. But rather than make an elaborate scheme to hide himself, use disguises, or any sort of distractions of any sort, he simply applied what he had learned. Namely, guarding the perimeter for a Japanese colony got rather boring during the hours of 3 AM to 4 AM, and that one guard tended to frequently look up and out into space. He had a more diligent partner, but there was the fifteen minute break period he took at 3 AM…

Anji had ended up stepping out of the shadows and calmly walking through the gate. He figured it was for the best. The bounty hunters, after all, were likely still watching him. And he had a feeling that they would be far less apt to attack him by moving out calmly. After all, Anji was of the firm belief that so long as you knew like you had every right to be there and knew exactly what you were doing, people tended to leave you alone and assume such was true. After that, either his good luck, mannerisms, or disguise helped him to move easily through the woods and toward the surrounding city area beyond.

He had run into _one_ bounty hunter who hadn't fallen for it along the way, and he was glad to find out how effective his new technique had been in dispatching him. Truth be told he had hoped to try it out on someone to gauge effectiveness. And he was certain the man wouldn't come to until morning, when they would find out he was gone regardless.

Now as Anji walked along the street, grateful to finally be alone and able to walk wherever he pleased when he wished, he began to think of all the sorts of things he should do now that he was finally out of the colony. He was very curious many happening in the world. He had studied much, but some subjects were still always painfully restricted to him. Apparently, his "caregivers" hadn't wanted the Japanese residents too distressed about the matters of the world. But even if that wasn't so, there were some things that could only be learned first hand. For tonight and the following day, his curiosity would have to wait, however. He needed to get out of the city and further away before more bounty hunters were up in arms. He had a feeling that the group of which that particular hunter was a member would want a bit more than just a bounty once they caught up with him. Yet very soon, he wanted a new subject in this world to sate his curiosity. The earliest chance he received, he wanted to apply his newfound freedom to learning something new…something he wasn't allowed to indulge in before…

Perhaps then, it was fate or fortune for him that a day old newspaper, at that moment, was blown by a stiff wind up into his face, bearing the news of exactly what subject the world was most interested in resolving at present.

Anji stopped in mid-step and instinctively reached his hands up and placed them on the paper. He pulled it away with his eyes still open, and so there was little way he could have avoided reading the front headline, especially since it was in extra-large print…

 _ACTIVE GEAR FOUND IN GERMANY: Local village nearly massacred overnight; World leaders post bounty of 500,000 world dollars._

Anji raised his eyebrows.

As far as personal animosity went, Anji had none. His country had been destroyed quite a while ago. If he was so sore about keeping grudges, he would have been furious at the US for those atomic bombs after all this time. Nevertheless, he knew more than enough about Gears to realize that they were pretty bad news. He also happened to know that Gears, at present, were supposed to all be inactive. Always the curious one, he had done a bit of research on Gears in general one summer and figured out that Gears needed a special "Command Gear" in order to operate. Without it, they just stood around inactively and waited for some officer or soldier to come along and shoot them in the head. They had one Command Gear that was in charge of all of them named Justice…one that apparently controlled all the other Command Gears. Once that one died, all others shut down for good.

Or so it was commonly thought, apparently. Now they had something else. A new Gear that was active. A scary thought, to be sure. It could have indicated the presence of a new Command Gear, one who was also autonomous. Even if it wasn't, it was still an active Gear somehow. And it was obviously dangerous based on what it had done already. Something very curious indeed…

In fact, the more that Anji thought about it, the more curious he found himself becoming. For a hundred years Gears had obeyed a given set of rules. It was considered given dogma about their kind that they behaved in certain ways. To suddenly find one behaving differently was something highly unusual. Something that Anji was interested in figuring out more. And why not? The way the world was, he knew that police and military officials…and bounty hunters too, apparently, based on the headline…would just come in, shoot it, and that would be it. He had a feeling none of them would have enough patience to try and find out more about this Gear: where it had come from, why it was active while the others were not. And that sort of knowledge would likely be far more important than simply taking its head and being done with it…

 _Their combat abilities are supposed to be strong. Far more powerful than me, most likely. Yet then again…nothing ventured is nothing gained. And no one else is likely going to try and solve this mystery. Didn't I just escape from that colony because I wanted a challenge? Something to really sate my curiosity?_

With that in mind, Anji had it settled.

He began to walk again down the street, but held the newspaper in front of him as he did and read more.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	3. Looking Ahead

**"** **Looking Ahead"**

* * *

 _Only nine weeks after it happened… One more incident and it will almost be like the Crusades again._

One would hardly believe that Captain Ky Kiske for the International Police Force had been so violently beaten, bloodied, and broken by the combined efforts of Sol Badguy and the Command Gear Justice nine weeks ago to look at him. Modern medicine was wonderful, after all. To those who could afford it, not only was healing fast, but also was scar-free using special magical treatments. That was even more so the case when one was a master of lightning magic. The very cell-to-cell interactions within the body seemed to speed up, causing accelerated healing even without help. Even so, one would have expected him to be a bit more shaken up; to have taken some time off or relaxation after such an ordeal.

That person, however, would simply not have known who Ky Kiske was. And he certainly wasn't taking any time off now…not when yet another crisis had already come to the forefront.

Ky's steely blue gaze slowly looked over the various IPF officers and specialists combing the area. In numerous spots, magical sigils had been set up where bodies had been: a modern-day equivalent of the old practice of setting up flags at a murder site or even outlines of chalk. There were quite a few indeed. This area had been the worst, although that was due simply to the people being there at the wrong time. It was clear what this place had been when it was intact. The small, simple, wooden shack in the middle of the clearing, with door broken into splinters and segments of ancient, iron chains lying around as if they had exploded out from inside was all the confirmation needed. Many signs of light charring and burn damage lay about, as well as the discarded weapons of the watchmen, left behind when their bodies were removed. What wasn't there, clearly, were signs of fired ammunition. Whatever had happened had happened quickly.

Ky shook his head as he looked around. The people here had been fools. They should have called in the IPF first thing, even if it would have meant risking letting the Gear get away. Instead, they went in and tried to deal with the situation themselves. Worse yet, they attempted to abuse an _active_ Gear. He didn't think anyone was that stupid. The Crusades weren't _that_ long ago. There was barely a sentient generation in the world that had lived with no knowledge of them.

As far as the abuse was concerned, Ky knew it already. He had stepped inside the shed and looked around. Officially, the Gear was declared as having broken out and caused a bloodbath, but that was all. The locals were considered just guarding it while they sent out for IPF assistance. Ky wasn't a fool, however. Looking inside the remains of the shed, he had seen numerous chains, iron pokers, and sticks that had been broken. One of the bodies had its pants halfway down and he seriously doubted that the Gear had decided to yank them off of him before killing him. No, it was true. They had been trying to abuse this Gear and brought its wrath down upon them.

Back during the Crusades, Ky would have thought this sort of conduct foolish, uncouth, and showing a severe lack of morals.

Yet only now, after what had happened on England, did he begin to feel something even deeper inside him. The fact that, as it would have been to any human being, it and of itself was wrong…

Ky swallowed on thinking that and turned away, moving toward the edge of the clearing. Everyone was too busy to notice that something had seemed to come over him. The truth was he had gone back on duty to try and get more into the old "swing" of things. And he had pursued his tasks so doggedly so that he could do so as quickly as possible. Yet despite his best efforts to be the upstanding citizen and officer he had always believed himself to be, Sol's words continued to echo into his inmost being. And he couldn't put the stoic, cold, murdering image of Justice's mask over that of a pale, bleeding, dying woman. Something deep inside him, no matter how much he tried to justify it, saw doubt inside him and was accusing him. Whether it be a demon of external or internal creation didn't matter. It continued to gnaw at him with a terrible possibility…he had broken his code.

 _Who indeed did Jesus reserve his reprimands for? Who did he accuse and rebuke? The tax collectors? The prostitutes? The Centurions? No…_

 _He rebuked those who were righteous in their own eyes._

"Captain!"

Ky snapped out of this and looked up. He hadn't realized it, but he had been walking straight for the edge of the forest clearing and had nearly reached it. However, one of the investigating officers around the area suddenly looked up on his approach. He realized that the man was beckoning to him. Quickly, Ky swallowed and smoothed himself out, and then walked up to the man.

"What is it, officer?"

The officer pointed down to some materials around his feet. Ky gave a look, and recognized what appeared to be some sort of splintered, or more appropriately slashed and broken, pieces of wooden debris. Based on the make of it, it appeared to be from the shed that had been broken. Hardly surprising that some of the material would make it all the way out here. Close to it, however, was another severed bit, this time one of the long barrel guns that the villagers had been using. The officer indicated to both portions.

"Look here. Two different slash marks. But I'm sensing something about them. The faint energy residues seem strange…"

Ky took this in and looked at the two items once more. What the officer had said was not unusual, not in the modern world. The rare ability of "object empathy" was a useful tool in these sorts of investigations, when you were attempting to piece together the history of crimes and events that had transpired. People who could take objects and then sense things through them were useful indeed in finding out bits of information. Ky could probably count on one hand the number of individuals in the world who could do it with exceptional skill: the ability to actually recount a vivid history of usage just from touching an object…but on investigations like these the IPF members had numerous people who could sense certain out-of-place things, such as this officer.

Ky himself immediately agreed with him because he could sense it as well. His own lightning ability could detect mild charges left over by Gears when their power was exerted, and he could sense that there was something muddled about this. After receiving the news, Ky leaned in even closer, getting down into a squat next to the officer and the two objects. He hesitated a moment, wondering about crime scene tampering, but then reached out and took both. He raised them up to a closer gaze and inspection.

Unless you looked closely, one might mistake that the two were the same. Both were almost flawlessly cut, seeming to form surfaces smooth as glass from where they had been severed. However, Ky was able to notice something just a bit more faintly thanks to his years of field experience and tracking of his own. The gun was cut much the same way as they had seen everything else cut on the field: with just a hint of pull and serration on the leading edge of the slice. That indicated the weapon used was a blade of some sort. A sharp one, to be sure, but nevertheless one that allowed just the barest hint of flesh or material closing on the blade as it passed to grasp it and be pulled.

Yet the other object was different: a slice he hadn't seen yet on the site. The wood had an unusually smooth finish to it where it was cut…more so than a blade should have been able to do since wood would form the potential for splintering regardless. There was no sign of tension or resistance either on the leading edge. Ky recognized this well enough: the sign of an energy blade, or some sort of cutting weapon crafted from magical power. It lacked any true physical form, instead using either its energy to simulate resistance or burning through its target. At any rate, he recognized it anywhere, and it was clearly a different thing from what had made the first cut.

He was looking at two different weapons implemented by the Gear.

 _Or…perhaps…two different Gears entirely?_

Ky stiffened again at that thought, and put the objects down. Almost absentmindedly, he managed a "good work" to the officer before turning and walking back toward the main area of investigation, his mind swimming again at all this. What a disaster. It wasn't enough that only a couple of months earlier they had been forced to deal with not one but two active Gears, one of them Command Gear Justice himself…herself. Now yet another active Gear had been found, one that was apparently sentient as well. That was more than enough to put the world into a panic, but what was truly agitating Ky now was the story that had not yet been given to the press concerning it.

Ky hadn't gotten the message first hand. He arrived late on the scene. For once, he hadn't been deployed to the location. He took it upon himself to request assignment there. His superiors agreed, seeming to understand that if there was an active Gear on the premises that they needed his assistance. He still managed to get word of most of the story before it was leaked to the press and the latest world-wide announcements were made. And although he wasn't in charge of the investigation by any means, he was unofficially given that title and distinction by the current commanding officer following the brief.

The case did indeed involve an active Gear being found in this part of the world. Yet the part that was making everyone scratch their heads at the moment was how it was found. It was not simply located or uncovered in this situation. No, the issue here was that the Gear had apparently been found as a newborn.

Truth be told, no one knew exactly how the Gears came into being. It was confirmed at this point that some Gears could indeed arise from modification of existing humans, and that this might have been the initial method used to create them. However, it was understood at one point that Gears were shifted to be made from scratch. No one knew the details about the procedure or how it was carried out. No one knew if they started off as babies or adults, if they were sired from surrogates or born in test tubes, or anything else. Yet apparently it seemed as if they now had some insight into it. Whatever this Gear had been or wherever it had come from, it had appeared as a baby.

There were scarce details other than that. What was known was that a local couple, an elderly duo who had no children of their own, felt some sort of maternal instinct toward the Gear they had found. Where they had located it wasn't in a lab or old facility either, but right there in the Schwarzwald. Despite investigative work that had proceeded on the area since then, there were no signs of old war facilities or plants either to indicate where it could have come from. It appeared as a total anomaly, appearing just one day right before this elderly couple. At any rate, they took it in and attempted to raise the Gear as their own child.

Yet, apparently, the identity of the Gear could not be kept a secret forever. For one thing, the Gear had reached adulthood, apparently, within the span of three years. Another tell-tale sign that couldn't be hidden forever was that, in spite of not knowing the exact origin of the "natural born" Gears, it was a well known fact that they all possessed the same characteristic: a tail. Apparently, the couple had been unable to hide their surrogate child forever due to these two things. The villagers had found out only recently. The old couple attempted to hide the Gear in these woods, apparently still feeling an attachment to it, but it was found out and imprisoned in the very shed that it had sought refuge in. The villagers held it there while sending for IPF help but apparently it escaped, and made them suffer for attempting to restrain it, no doubt.

Of course, now, Ky was not so sure that was the case…not after seeing a small, yet very possible, indication of two Gears being involved. It seemed crazy enough but so was believing that any one Gear would still be active or, worse yet, a newborn. There weren't supposed to be any new Gears period. Even Testament should have shut down following the fall of Justice. So why not accept the fact that two were there?

Then again, if such was the case, then that only made things worse.

Governments and agencies were in an uproar following the England situation. The death of Justice meant little to them. A Gear had been active, had found a way of shattering dimensional prisons, had built war machines right underneath their noses. Had things panned out differently, thousands would have died before Testament had been stopped, or worse if Justice had succeeded. To top all that off, Testament's body was never found, and Justice introduced the horrifying possibility to the world of humanity that Gears had managed to overcome the barriers to being able to breed. Everything that people had taken for granted about Gears…what they had believed they could accept and therefore feel a measure of "safety" about…was all blown out of the water. An air of confusion and dread was left behind. The incident was kept as secret as possible. Its details were downplayed and covered up as much as they could be. It might not have been the wisest course, but it was all they could hope for to prevent a panic.

However, Ky realized with no small thought of irritation and anger at the irresponsibility of the press, that would mean little compared to what had happened now.

Whoever this Gear was, it was a newborn. A Gear that had arisen not from the initial set but much later on in years. And, Ky realized with a chilling thought, all signs were pointing to the fact that this Gear had been sired by another active Gear that was still on the loose. The time of the Gear's appearance coincided with Justice being imprisoned so that only led one to infer that, quite possibly, a different Gear was active and breeding. No one knew this outside of the IPF and a few other government bodies yet, but this was all indicating that whatever Gears were left had indeed found a way to overcome the infertility barrier. If so, then the one true advantage that humanity had held over the Gears in the Crusades, the ability to replenish their numbers, would be gone. And if that was the case, reduced in number as the Gears were now, there was always the chance that they could breed…increase in number…and then strike back; especially if those who were bred so rapidly reached maturity as this one likely had.

All of it was bad news and fearful possibilities. Had the world governments known the whole story, they likely would have made the bounty 1,000,000 world dollars or even more. As it was, however, Ky was angry at them having done this. Dozens were already dead due to lack of responsibility and caution so far as this new anomaly Gear was concerned. Now they were encouraging more recklessness out of their own fear; sending more untrained, undisciplined people on greedy hunts that would end in their deaths. And now that there could be two of them…

Ky turned to the officer and gave a nod. "Continue your investigation for any more signs of which Gears might be involved."

* * *

The IPF was privileged to have some of the better forms of transport known to man. As such, it didn't take Ky more than about four hours after concluding his own personal investigation of the site to hike back out of the Schwarzwald to the nearest access road, then ride in an IPF motorcar toward one of the major highways in Germany and take it to Berlin. That was another great aspect of German history; their ability to construct fast roadways. Now, in an age where magic could make near-frictionless travel and the ability of the IPF to access the latest incarnation of the country-spanning Autobahn, speeds exceeding 560 kilometers an hour were possible when traveling. Needless to say, the far majority of the trip's time had been getting to the Autobahn. Once on it, arriving back to the local IPF branch was a small matter.

Ky was one of the more infamous officers, so even if he hadn't had all of his paperwork and identification well in order before arrival he would have still easily made his way into the inner chambers of the HQ building with little effort. Two days ago the place had been fairly open and calm, but already it was clogging with personnel to such a point that only the more private areas allowed any breathing room. To that end, Ky was grateful for the chance to check into the higher security offices.

Ky stood in much the same place he normally did out of his home office. One would almost think that this area was the same spot, much in how modular the offices for IPF personnel had been. After all, they had all been built according to the same design when they were still Sacred Order buildings. Germany may have had far more Protestants than Catholics, a fact that was not lost on Ky and made him feel a bit like a fish out of water there, but the Sacred Order followed a more "non-denominational" style. The same gold décor…inner vestibule…it was almost as if he had never left France. Only the commanding officer was different: a silver-haired, thinner man of about the same age as the CO back home, but instead in charge of the operations of the IPF in Eastern Europe. An Inspector R. Stein.

Ky, despite the relocation and the differences in religious denomination, felt a bit more comfortable around this one than his own CO. He wasn't exactly sure but it almost seemed as if the two had a bit more connection. That might have been the case. Stein had a more extensive record in the former Sacred Order himself with more frontline fighting, and he had a look about him of a more seasoned veteran. Yet despite that there was something else about him…

"You're sure about the presence of another?" The CO finally announced, snapping Ky out of his train of thought.

The officer gave a nod. "Beyond any doubt. The energy signals-"

"I'll believe you." Stein answered, cutting Ky off. "I'm not about to doubt the word of Ky Kiske regarding these things. Not when I know full well that members of the Sacred Order lived and died by their ability to detect how many Gears they would be going up against before entering a hostile situation." After saying this, the man's face tightened as he seemed to grow grimmer yet. "Do you think this one is like the target? Another…potential newborn Gear?"

Ky shook his head. "No sir."

"What makes you say that?"

Ky paused before answering this question. He seemed to almost stiffen. "…Intuition, sir."

Stein raised an eyebrow in response. "…Intuition, captain?"

Ky swallowed, but then forced himself to stand upright once again. "…You said you acknowledged my ability regarding these things, so I can only ask you to do so again now. On surveying the damage and being made aware of the presence of two Gears, something familiar went off inside me. I sensed something that I could not define because it was not clearly electrical in nature, but nevertheless I realized it was something that I had experienced before. And until now, the only Gears that I have encountered have been of the…more 'standard' variety, so to speak. Therefore, I am forced to conclude that this one is not like our target. Nevertheless, it is extremely powerful. The level of signature that has been left behind had to have been from one of the more advanced classes of Gear. I wish I could say more but unfortunately I cannot fathom what either Gear would be or their natures."

Stein hesitated, seeming to think this over. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, leveling his gaze at Ky and studying him, as if by doing so he could get more information than even Ky knew. For his own part, the officer stood still and at attention as he always did.

In the end, he shrugged and let out an exhale. "…Very well. I trust your judgment in this matter, captain."

"Something else, sir."

The inspector once again raised an eyebrow.

"Based on the energy readings picked up from the area, it appears that the majority of power that was put out, including what went into killing the captors of this anomaly Gear, came from the second. There is little to read from the anomaly herself. There's no way to conclusively put a rating on her power as of yet. Yet considering this pattern and chain of behavior, it seems as if the high level one almost appears to be assisting the anomaly."

Stein paused. Ky knew what they were both thinking now. A Gear assisting another Gear. Not unusual…if this was the Crusades and Command Gear Justice was still running around. But in a world where it was uncommon for a Gear to be moving, walking, or talking…or even with one apparently being born…that shouldn't have been possible. Not unless they had achieved a level of awareness that amounted to near independent thought, and that should have been rendered forever impossible with the death of Justice.

An anomaly Gear appears to arise from birth…something quite impossible as far as humanity knew. It becomes captured. Then a second Gear, through another act of impossibility, appears to show up and come to its rescue. It led to only one reasonable conclusion: the anomaly also possessed traits of a Command Gear…one that was independently acting just like Justice had.

"Recommendations, captain?"

"If there's only two of them thus far…they won't attempt to leave the Schwarzwald." Ky continued. "They'll head deep into its older portions where they have the advantage. Unless we hack the entire forest to the ground, thereby ruining a great carbon sink, source of lumber, and some of the only natural beauty left on Earth, we won't be able to get them there. We lack the manpower to surround an area of that size effectively as well. Our best bet would be a flushing maneuver. Use highly trained team personnel to move in and drive them out to an ambush point. So long as we can move freely and have them in hiding, we can deploy various devices to allow such an operation to be carried out safely."

Stein thought this over only a moment, then gave a nod.

Ky seemed to take this as a sign that they were done there, and that he was dismissed to make this so. With that in mind, he gave a respectful bow to the inspector. Afterward, he began to shift one of his feet to turn and move out. Normally, he would wait to be dismissed, but in a time like this when speed was of the essence, he would realize urgency would possibly negate this propriety.

"…One moment, captain."

Ky froze in mid-step. He returned to his previous position.

Stein exhaled again, but then made for something on his desk: an already opened envelope. He took it up and drew it back to himself. "I'm thankful for you being here and helping out, and if I had it my way I'd personally rely on you to head up the operation to find and eliminate these two Gears. But I'm afraid my authority doesn't supersede that of the home command center."

Stein tossed the envelope out to Ky's side of the desk The captain looked down and saw the address was from the home command center. Half of a broken official seal was across the flap that had been torn open. The commissioner sighed and explained.

"Under command of my own superiors, I'm hereby ordered to pass along this edict. You are being removed from this current operation and being placed on one month medical leave."

Ky's brow furrowed as he looked up to Stein. "Medical leave? Sir, is this some sort of punishment? And if so, I have to say that I am not aware in which way I have displeased my superiors…"

"Well, according to that letter, you were supposed to go on medical leave ever since the London operation." Stein let out a chuckle. "And even if I was still your age, captain, I would have taken it in a heartbeat after what you went through. Now they're making it mandatory."

"I'm fine, sir. I've already healed and I'm back to full operational capacity."

Stein bowed his gaze. "Be that as it may, captain, orders are orders."

Ky didn't accept that. For once, he found himself bordering on insubordination. "Sir, I am the most qualified to be on this operation. My record is impeccable and my experience in dealing with Gears exceeds that of most personnel. I do not see what there is to gain by dismissing me."

"According to your home office, you submitted a personal request to be deployed here." Stein answered. "You were never directly sent to this area. They have reviewed the request and have rejected it. I've submitted my own request to allow you to remain, and this as well was summarily rejected. There is nothing I can do further in this matter, captain. As I said before, I would if I could because I think you're a big help in this situation. But the matter is closed. You are to report back into the home office to confirm your leave. That is all."

Ky's fist tightened. He found his mouth nearly opening again. Not since his last dealings with a lead on Sol Badguy had he come so close to protesting. However, even if Stein would listen to him, Ky realized it was no good. His own commissioner never tolerated any deviance in orders from him. No matter how much either of them called in, it wasn't going to change anything. And speaking up again was likely to indeed be seen as an act of insubordination. Ky, ever respectful to authority, wasn't about to invite that on him. Nevertheless, unlike in all the times he had dealt with Sol…this continued to gnaw at him even when he resigned himself.

"…Very well, sir."

* * *

Ky found himself still brooding about the whole matter when he had left that office. He continued to do so as he marched his way, almost mechanically now, out through the various crowded corridors of the station and back toward the private garage. Although vehicular resources were currently being applied on a constant basis within this station as well as many other IPF outposts throughout the entire European area, the garage that Ky entered was empty and dark when he arrived, illuminated only by a few pale lights. That was because this area was where more crucial, or more dangerous, bits of IPF technology were stored. Regular transport vehicles and patrol cars were one thing, but this was where they stored their weapons for dealing with larger, military or magical threats or sent in their special teams in armored wagons. They were kept in this separate area under magical lock and key.

It was mostly empty now, allowing Ky's footsteps to echo loudly. All of the flying machines and drop ships were gone. Most of the armored transports and police artillery units were gone as well. They had been the first out. The place was already nearly bare when Ky arrived, and only more vehicles had vanished since then. The result made one feel very alone and in the open as they moved through this room. The silence itself was a bit unsettling and despite the lack of clamor it did distract him a bit from his thoughts as he tried to focus. After taking a few more steps, he emerged into one alley of parking spaces and looked down to see his own vehicle…an Epee 7: personal armored motorcycle. It was totally covered and looked smooth and sleek, gleaming in the dim lights. The glare was almost enough to hide its blue and white colors. He had ridden here from France all the way on it. They were unarmed and reserved solely for high officer transport, but if speed of transport or escape from a hostile area was the issue at hand, they were unbeatable. They would definitely fetch a high price on the black market, so Ky had stored his here, not risking its theft down with the other vehicles. Now he began to walk toward it and as he did his thoughts once again began to work involuntarily.

Why _did_ he want this job so badly? Although he considered himself the best qualified to take down a high level Gear, or pair of them even, was him being on this mission so terribly important? There were many former Sacred Order members involved in this operation already, and more would no doubt be rerouted in as time went on. And in this situation, strategy and ambush would likely be as effective, if not more so, than one-on-one fighting. The fact that the Gear had slain so many in such a short period was irrelevant: they were untrained, undisciplined, and underarmed. The IPF would do much better. Of that he was certain. He had led groups before during the Crusades, though, and he did have the most experience and power in the organization…

However, Ky doubted that was it. In fact, he knew that wasn't it. It was something else; something he had thought about ever since he had received the news.

It had been minor really…nothing too extreme or shocking. Just a bit of data to most other people. But to Ky Kiske, since the war and beyond, and as of late truly thought-provoking, it meant just about everything.

 _Sex: Female._

Every time he pictured that bit of data in his memory, there was always the same thing with it…

 _We were all of the same mind and power…yet you thought of some of us being more 'human' than others because of sex…almost as if they were a different race…_

The memory chilled him inwardly; worse than any fear of battle or Gears ever had. It was something that shook his inmost being…his moral code…everything he had stood by. No matter how much he wished, he couldn't change the fact that he had violated his chivalry in that battle. But worse than that was that he had been exposed to his hypocrisy. He had indeed thought of Gears as nothing but things to be summarily executed and killed. And why not? All they had ever done was slay humans in their quest for genocide. And yet, what if indeed there was more to it than all that? What if Ky was thinking of this in too small terms? The Word of God also cautioned people against taking the views of society and challenged all people to look deeper…

 _But such thoughts are madness. They are Gears…demons in the flesh. There is no good in them. No souls. No sides to appeal to or turn over and nothing to save. All any of them have ever done is kill. They exist only to kill. None of them ever showed so much as one shred of mercy to mankind. None of them revealed the slightest sign of repentance or change. They're all the same…a plague to be wiped out. There's nothing to even think about. As for what Justice and Sol both said…both of them are criminals. One is a murderer. The other is a brigand. They can't begin to lecture me on morality. My cause is just and right._

 _And yet…_

 _How come doubt lingers within me, knowing all this?_

 _Am I too convinced of my own righteousness?_

Ky didn't know. He had never thought of things in this way before, and it was tearing him up inwardly. He wasn't sure what to do or believe at the moment. Only that he was no longer as certain as he once was. He couldn't hide it or deny it any longer. Every time he heard one of his superior or subordinates speak of the new Gear and heard them automatically decree the judgment for destruction he felt ill at ease inside. Where he once would have immediately nodded and given consent, something now twisted him when he tried to think of it.

Ky struggled to keep these thoughts out of his mind as he neared the motorcycle. He had to stay focused. He had far too much to worry about in his life already, and his senses had to always be alert. Here it might have been alright, but farther out in the field, in the heat of a battle or confrontation, he had to keep aware of any electrical im-

Even as Ky thought of that, his senses picked up on one suddenly igniting not far from him to his right.

Immediately, the captain's body sprung into action. Yet as his hand reached for his sword handle and grasped it, and his body began to spin around, he already knew he had been far too slow and he was going to pay the price. Before his vision had fully turned behind him, he already felt something soft and fluffy suddenly strike him in the back of the neck and spread around it to encircle it. By the time he was fully turned the soft feeling had turned hard and had tightened like a rope noose. It constricted to the point of choking by the time he had his sword up.

As his eyes zeroed in on the figure now in front of him, his ears already picked up a merciless, icy, Russian accent.

"Lower your sword or I break your neck."

Ky froze in midstep, not due to the threat but out of now being in the ready position. However, he soon realized that he was already dead in this formation. He recognized the figure in front of him all too well. He had seen her just nine weeks ago, but even if he hadn't he knew her from the wanted posters well enough. She was still dressed in the same white and blue, but she looked as if she had healed nicely as well since the London incident. Her face was as stony and icy as it always was in her pictures. However, the most important thing to note about her was that her ponytail of blond hair was currently over her head, stretched out in a taut line all the way to Ky, and connected in a noose around his neck.

 _Millia Rage…_

Ky's arm began to raise ever so slightly.

In response, the hair tightened to the point of cutting off his airway. Ky didn't react, although it was now choking him, but he realized what this meant. He had been caught too off guard. He couldn't move toward her without dying. Not in this position. He hated having to back down, almost as much as being caught unprepared for the moment. But with no other choice available to him, he lowered his sword again. The hair loosened just enough to allow him to breathe, but other than that remained quite tight. Ky suppressed taking in a gulp of air. He wasn't about to let his opponent see weakness. Instead, after staring back at her a moment, he gave a snort.

"…You have a strange way of showing appreciation for letting you escape back in England."

"Cut the bullsh't." Millia cut off.

"How did you get in here?"

"I'll be gone soon enough, and without any blood on my hair so long as you tell me what I want to know."

Ky's eyes narrowed. "I do not answer to threats. Especially not ones from most wanted criminals."

The hair tightened around Ky's neck. "You don't forget your position, do you?"

Ky answered by tightening his own grip on his sword. He didn't move it, but he made it clear what he was doing. He focused even harder on Millia. "And perhaps you don't realize that I can move faster than most people alive and before they react based on my mastery over lightning. You think I can't raise the end of this blade and strike you with a bolt of lightning in the time it takes you to tell your hair to break my neck?"

Millia didn't answer, but neither did she react physically. Ky took that as a good sign. The truth was he couldn't honestly say he was in a good position to attack. And he wasn't sure what type of speed that hair had on it. Even if he could get off an attack, and even if it had enough power to make her release, he wasn't sure how strong or vicious the two were in regard to one another, and if they would both be able to strike a final blow of their own before going down. Yet so long as Millia didn't know that, he felt somewhat more relief…

"I just want to know one thing." Millia finally answered. "Did you really kill Zato-1?"

Ky paused himself after hearing that. He hadn't known what to expect from Millia on suddenly seeing her there in a position to kill him. This wasn't like the movies. Criminals didn't try to break into major security areas just to try and "thin out the opposition". Furthermore, Ky wasn't even the lead agent searching for her at the moment. They had their encounter back in England but if anything he thought that would have broken her off of his trail. He did think she might be here looking to hunt down some sort of police secret or file or something to aid in her own elusion of authorities, but that would mean little he realized; what with how often things changed in a police station. But he was most surprised none the less to hear she had broken in just for this…

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just spit it out!" Millia snapped back, tightening her hair and once again nearly closing off the airway. "Did you kill him or not?"

Ky was again forced to pause. The voice that Millia answered him with seemed strained and overly loud, as if the subject was causing her more distress than her normal cold demeanor could hide. On hearing that, Ky began to realize that it must have been true. There had to be an "internal struggle" within the Assassin's Syndicate. He hesitated a bit longer before he finally decided to go ahead and answer.

"You should have read the news reports. He's been taken off our most wanted list for weeks now."

"But is he dead?" Millia instantly retorted, clearly not satisfied with that.

"I executed him myself back in England." Afterward, however, he spoke again after a pause. "…And that information was in my report. Is that why you came to me?"

"So you killed him?"

"I just answered that."

"He was dead when you left him?"

Ky's brow narrowed. "I don't make the mistake of misreporting a death when I can avoid it. My senses detected no electrical impulses from his brain or his critical nodes. There was background interference because it occurred in a power plant, but I am confident of what I found. He was dead."

"And what about Eddie, then? Was he also dead?"

Again, Ky looked confused. "…Eddie?"

"That thing attached to him. There's no way you could have missed it."

Ky was only puzzled a moment. Now that Millia mentioned it, it seemed as if Zato-1 had given that forbidden magic a name… And he was sure something in the files that he read about him indicated that he had been the recipient of a strange magical entity. As he thought more, he realized he had indeed heard the name "Eddie" thrown around.

"…There was no more movement from him. No signs of life."

"That's not good enough." Millia coldly answered.

"According to everything I know about forbidden magics, as soon as the caster is dead, so is anything bonded to them."

"But you don't know for certain."

"Such a case would be unprecedented. How can a shadow continue to live without anyone casting it?"

However, even as Ky said this, he felt a bit of discomfort sinking into him. Truth be told, he didn't know too terribly much about this entity that Zato-1 had bonded to him. And he remembered from the fight about how vicious and wild it had been. He could have sworn more than once during that battle that the thing had its own consciousness…was almost behaving of its own accord. As ludicrous as it seemed, it was impossible for any one person to fully grasp the full scope of magics that existed in the world, especially the forbidden ones. Seals and enchantments could persist long after their original casters were dead. Could it actually be possible that something like this could exist after the death of its caster?

At any rate, Millia did not answer his rhetorical question. She simply stood there momentarily, staring back at him coldly, seeming to ponder over these things. After a few moments longer, she began to move. Stepping around lightly and keeping her eyes trained on Ky, she walked over to his own Epee 7. Once she reached it, she stretched out her hands and grabbed the door handle. She clicked it and opened up the top of the motorcycle, exposing the inner controls and seat. Next, she reached for the handlebars. With some effort, and keeping her eyes trained on Ky the entire time, she yanked it up and proceeded to pull it so that it was aiming for the exit to the garage. Once that was done, she straddled it and positioned herself on the seat. The whole time, her eyes remained focused on Ky, and her hair remained tightened around his neck.

The man tightened his own throat and clenched his hands into fists as he saw what she was doing, but he wasn't willing to risk death to stop her from committing an act of theft. He remained immobile as separate strands of her hair snaked down and proceeded to insert themselves into the keyhole of the ignition switch. Once inside, they fiddled around within it for a brief moment, before the tumblers clicked and the switch proceeded to rotate to the on position. The engine immediately coughed and churned, and then erupted into a steady purring. It figured the IPF would miss a critical detail such as making the ignition microchip controlled. Still keeping her eyes on Ky, Millia revved the engine once, building up the RPM. Then, she twisted the handlebars and let the throttle go. The tires squealed against the pavement for a brief moment, but then she took off down through the parking garage, headed straight for the end of it and the exit.

Her hair remained wrapped around Ky's neck for a few moments, lengthening off of her scalp as the motorcycle bore her away from him and stretching between the two of them. But then, when she reached a certain distance, it suddenly sloughed off of his body and immediately contorted, shooting back toward her and turning into a normal length once again. The instant it left his body, Ky reacted. In a flash, he had drawn the Thunderseal from its sheath and aimed it toward the fleeing motorbike. Ky focused for a brief moment, but then let fly a sizzling bolt of electricity after it. His aim was true but unfortunately it didn't matter. While he was firing, Millia continued to pull back her hair, and as she did she seized the top of the Epee 7's covering with it and yanked it down, closing the door back over herself. The lightning impacted it a moment later, but seeing as the bike was armored to be resistant to all forms of magic, the bolt merely fizzled out around the coating like lightning on rubber. Ky fired again soon afterward, but had a similar result. He was about to fire a third time, but it was too late for that. Millia rounded a corner, and soon vanished from view and targeting range.

Ky's face twisted into a frown as he withdrew his sword and inserted it back into his sheath, fuming in anger. Today was turning out to be a real disaster. First there was the word of the new Gear running around, then he had been removed from the group that was in pursuit of it, and now he had encountered a noteworthy criminal and had just been robbed of an extremely expensive piece of IPF equipment. He had just been made a fool out of, no less, in letting her get the drop on him and escape. Some hero of the Sacred Order he was turning out to be… If only his thoughts hadn't been so distracted by this latest case. If only he hadn't been thinking so much about-

Suddenly, however, a thought came to mind.

 _Millia Rage is in the area. She's one of the top ten most wanted. She just committed a felony against a senior member of the IPF. Under Emergency Provision #13 of the International Police Force Master Regulations, a senior member of the IPF is allowed, under these circumstances, to circumvent orders demanding that an administrative leave be taken in favor of apprehending a noteworthy criminal while there is a window of opportunity._

 _I can stay on the case…_

Ky's frown slowly vanished. He didn't turn to a smile, but he did feel a degree of growing enthusiasm inside him. For whatever reason that compelled him to remain after this Gear, the fact that he now had a reason to remain on its tail filled him with a sense of relief. Whatever was the reason he was taking an interest in this case, it appeared that he now had time to figure it out. He had the chance to sort out the doubt and confusion that was filling him. Perhaps, in the process, he would find the means to cleanse his mind and soul of the lingering shadows that continued to hover over them following his final encounter with Justice…

Practically forgetting about the motorcycle, Ky turned back to the exit and began to move; intent on heading straight to Stein's office to make it official.

* * *

 _Fool…_

That was the only thing Millia could think of to regard Ky as she sped along down the road. She had not bothered to stop at the locked gate that had prevented her from exiting the parking garage. Rather, she had used her hair to rip apart the locks and then burst through at full speed. Now she was free, and putting as much distance between her and the police station as she could. She realized that most of the officers were concerned with the Gear at this point, and there were few vehicles and personnel available to be concerned with her. Still, it did not pay to take chances. She had already taken quite a risk as it was coming there.

Yet it at least confirmed what she had feared.

Millia had been on the run for several weeks now. It hadn't been easy evading the IPF. She had practically painted a target on herself by going to that "tournament" in England, announcing to everyone in the world where she was. And without a plane, there were a limited number of locations she could go to from England by short-range boat. Everywhere she went had cops. Although she could easily fight off whatever groups of them she encountered, she struggled not to. Doing so would only alert more to her presence. As such, she had to stick to the shadows and the darker, more secluded parts of every city she was in as she slowly made her way as far from England as she could. However, no sooner had she managed to free herself from the eye of heavy police forces and get herself back into something of the clear when she found herself diving right back into hostile territory to answer her pervading questions…namely what had happened to Zato-1.

Yes, she had read the file that Ky had submitted. She had also noted that it was lacking in one important detail: the body of Zato-1 was never recovered. She didn't care if Ky had told her he had staked him through the heart, cut off his head, and stuffed the open wound with garlic. If there was no body, then he wasn't dead. It was as simple as that to her. However, some of the other details that he had mentioned hadn't set so easily with her. Namely that he hadn't sensed any electrical impulses coming from his brain or body, indicating that he had indeed been dead when he was done with him. Yet his body had been missing when they went back to recover it. Barring the chance that someone had moved in and picked up his corpse before anyone could get there, a possibility that seemed rather incredulous to believe, there was only one other option.

 _Eddie…_

Millia had heard the rumors. They had been cycling over the past couple weeks. Apparently, someone had found it out, and now the word was starting to spread. That thing that was attached to him…it wasn't from his own shadow. It had belonged to someone else who had used the same forbidden magic; specifically, a Gear. And somehow, it had continued to live even after the Gear itself had been killed. Zato-1 had gotten it somehow and bonded it to himself. That made for a frightening possibility. The thing had been its own separate, individual, independent entity before it had ever made it to Zato-1. What was to say that it still wasn't the same way? Millia had seen it envelop Zato-1 before in battle…had seen how his moves seemed to change as a result… How he appeared to become less like Zato-1 in terms of his moves and more like Eddie. What if the control that was going on was a two-way street?

What if Zato-1 had become the shadow and Eddie the caster?

The thought didn't bode well with Millia. Both Zato-1 and Eddie had been savages in her experience. Brutal…violent…sadistic killers. But Zato-1, he at least had been restricted by what a person could do as a human being regardless of how loosely the term applied to him. Eddie, on the other hand…he was a raw monster. There was no limit to what he could do, being a piece of living shadow. She honestly didn't know if he would be more deadly or less in this current state.

However, the question was moot to her. Regardless of whether or not Eddie was in control, one thing still remained. She had to find him and kill him. Ky's failure merely meant that her own job wasn't going to be done for her. She had to end this once and for all by herself. She had no idea where to start looking, or even if she'd be able to at first due to having to lie low again to evade this new round of IPF officers. But she would find him. No matter what it took, she'd track him down and either destroy the man himself, or put him out of his misery after falling victim to that living shadow.

Revving the engine again, Millia narrowed her gaze on the open road before her and continued to speed off in the direction of the setting sun.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	4. Iron Chef

**"** **Iron Chef"**

* * *

"Jam! Hurry up with those noodles!"

"They're coming!"

The cook, while continuing to chop up a radish on her cutting board with one hand, reached out with her other for the stove, in particular to a boiling pot of water. Despite the amount of focus it took to do the two tasks at once, she managed to perfectly slice the vegetable with one hand while plucking the boiling pot off of the burner with the other, and bring it over to a nearby sink and strainer where she dumped it out. Once that was done, she quickly put the pot aside while she set her knife down long enough to take up a new vegetable and place it on the cutting board. As she took up the blade to begin to cut this one as well, she took up the strainer and shook it a few times to get rid of excess water.

"Is that sweet and sour pork ready yet?" Her boss' voice sounded once again.

Jam suppressed a sigh. "It's coming too!"

The cook broke off from chopping her vegetables and turned around to a table opposite the stove and cutting board area. While holding the strainer in one hand with the noodles, she reached out with her other hand for a smaller, steaming pot filled with a reddish sweet-and-sour sauce. She took this up with her other hand, and proceeded to move over to two separate bowls that had been set out. The cook dumped the contents of the strainer into one of them, but held on to the sauce with her other hand. On looking into the bowl, she frowned, realizing that she hadn't gotten the pork out for it yet. Still holding the sauce in one hand, she discarded the strainer, and turned around back toward the stove. This time, she looked to a skillet that was resting on it, checking to see if the meat was done. On looking at it, she twisted her lips, and reached over for a spatula. Taking it up, she began to rotate the pieces inside the skillet.

"I'm still waiting on the cashew chicken!" The voice boomed into the kitchen once again.

Now Jam really did sigh. "In a minute!"

The cook looked about for a moment of what to do next, now that her hands were full. After a few moments, however, she passed the sweet-and-sour sauce pot into the same hand as the spatula, and with expert balance held it upright while she continued to turn the meat. She moved her other hand toward another skillet that had sizzling, nut-encrusted meat inside of it. However, as she looked over to this, her eyes widened in horror. The meat was far too blackened. It had been burning. While still turning the meat with her other hand, she nervously cupped her hand to her mouth and looked behind her, as if she could see the eyes of her boss upon her. Yet after pausing for a bit, she realized there was nothing else for it. She grabbed the handle of the skillet and moved to throw it out. She'd have to start again. She wasn't going to serve bad meat.

"The noodles, Jam?"

The cook swallowed on hearing this. Turning her head around slightly behind her, she saw the bowl of noodles was still sitting on the kitchen table. She looked just beyond it, and saw the open window where food orders were presented. She moistened her lips nervously in response. A moment later, and she risked an unusual move. While juggling three things in her hands, she reached backward with one foot and made her way toward the bowl with the noodles inside. Once she reached it, she lightly began to push against the side of it, nudging it toward the open window while continuing to work at everything else.

While doing this, however, she heard yet another demand.

"Where are those radishes you were supposed to be chopping?"

That was the last straw. In a sign of being overwhelmed, the woman threw up both of her arms in disgust.

Of course…she had forgotten that she was carrying a pot of sweet-and-sour sauce in one hand and a skillet with burned cashew chicken in the other, and promptly threw both up in the air and on herself.

Moments later, and Jam was yelping in pain and doing a mad dance within the narrow confines of the kitchen, smashing into everything else and knocking the noodles, the bowls, the radishes, and everything else she had been preparing at once onto the floor.

* * *

Jam Kuradoberi kept her head bowed, not looking up to face her boss. Her eyes glared at the ground fearfully as her hands wrung each other and pulled at her lower garment. She was still dressed as she had been when the disaster struck the kitchen; in her chef's uniform. It was pretty basic. Just a red, tight-fitting, Chinese-style dress with pink lace and frills on the sides around the hips. There was some embroidery at that location to give it more detail and to accent the "chef" aspect of her uniform, but other than that there wasn't too much detail to the outfit. She had a set of matching boots that were low fitting and featured black straps around the ankles to fix them in place. Lastly, she wore close-fitting black coverings over her forearms that featured red trains that stretched down to the ground, again matching the color of her dress. Besides this, the only decoration that she wore was a large stain of sweet-and-sour sauce covering half of her torso down to the frills on her lower dress. Her hair was done up in a more modern style that was rather unconventional for most people, but growing in popularity. It was long, but had been done up in a large circle that spanned behind her down to the small of her back to the top of her head, and was clasped around her forehead by a single gold-colored metallic band.

As for her boss herself, she was dressed far more simply. Her own clothing was stained from heavy usage and food preparation for a period of years, and was of the more basic variety with an all-encompassing white apron covering most of her torso and middle. She was much larger than Jam was, and seemed to accent that fact over her as they stood on opposite sides of the main counter. The restaurant was closed now. The disaster that had happened in the kitchen had long since passed, but not before it had caused several customers to storm out due to impatience. Normally, Jam would be heading home herself. However, tonight, her boss had told her to stay afterward. Hearing that had sent a ripple of anxiety through the young woman, and she had feared the worst.

Now, it appeared her fears were justified.

Jam's boss proceeded to press a button on the cash register, causing the drawer to open up. She reached in and grabbed out a stack of bills afterward. She turned to the young woman afterward and began to count out several of them.

"This is for Friday…this is for yesterday…and this is for tonight." On completing counting them out, she replaced the remaining bills in the register and closed it up again. She looked up to Jam afterward. "This settles your account here."

Jam wrung her hands around her lower dress. "Please…I…"

"You're fired, Jam."

"For one little accident?"

The older woman rolled her eyes and sighed. "It doesn't take thirty minutes to make a bowl of noodle soup."

"Good food takes time! Care! Attention! Love-"

"Jam, look at this place!" The woman retorted, gesturing around herself. Jam did as she was told, and took stock of it. There were only five tables in the main "dining room", if you could even call it that. There were cracks in the plaster that made up the side of the wall, as well as signs of mold and staining. A third of the overhead lights were flickering out. The glass that made up the front window was cracked. All in all it wasn't the best place in the world to pick to eat. Hardly five star…or even two star. "You think people come in here for the flavor? They come in here because they're hungry! And they don't want to have to wait extra time for it!"

"But that's no excuse!" Jam persisted. "Maybe if we improved the quality of the food here we'd get more business…"

"If you want to act as a gourmet chef, then feel free to apply at a larger scale dining establishment." The woman cut off. "But here, it's just a waste of time."

Jam released her dress and put her arms at her sides. "Please…I need this job. I was just starting to earn enough to put some money away. If I go back to the job market now, I'll lose all my savings…"

The woman sighed again and stared back plainly at her. However, she crossed her arms after a moment. "I lost three customers tonight because of you, Jam. That's not the first time this has happened, either. I'm sorry, but you're just too much of a liability."

"But…"

"You're fired, and that's final."

The young woman stood there, her eyes pleading for a moment longer. However, her now-former boss didn't change in expression. Jam held out for that moment, hoping she would break. Yet when she didn't, she finally let out a sigh of her own and let her arms slump to her sides. Bowing her head, the young woman ruefully reached up and took her last set of pay off of the counter.

* * *

In terms of loss of life during the Great War, Asia was one of the hardest hit. Accounting for well over half of the world's human population, it presented a prime target for the Gears to be able to kill large amounts of people in a small period of time. The largest and deadliest weapons that the Gears had managed to devise had been implemented in Asia, with Japan ending up receiving the worst brunt of the attacks that had been launched. Yet that wasn't to say that the rest of the continent hadn't suffered likewise. The various nations had been subjected both to outright killings and attacks as well as suffering from the "trickle-down" effect of damaging other parts of the world; such as the cutting off of critical food supply centers on Earth in the United States and the Ukraine. Doing so had served to starve most of the sprawling populace that had grown in the rugged and inhospitable areas over the years following the Agricultural and Industrial Revolutions. In many areas, it was not uncommon for the death tolls to reach into the millions due to starvation, disease, or straight up murder.

However, it was the fact that these areas were so populated during the pre-war times that they managed to survive the worst days of the war. Even when Asia fell under Gear domination, and said dominion lasted for decades, the human race was never wiped out. Nor did it suffer such an extreme genetic bottleneck as to lose its diversity entirely, as it did in many other parts of the world. The Gears were simply unable to totally eradicate the human race. And in the rugged and barren landscapes that made up much of Asia, amid the more inhospitable territories and climes (such as the towering Himalayas or icy Siberia), survivors managed to flee and mete out meager livings until their saviors eventually came.

In a way, it served to improve the quality of the people living in the regions. Living in the remote parts of the world was hardly easy and following the first few years of combat the death tolls soon were mostly adding to their numbers via people who died due to exposure or harsh conditions. Many were unable to make the journey to these areas, either being overtaken by Gears or by the terrain and the elements. Of those that did make it, half died due to being unable to establish and secure the basic necessities of food, water, and shelter. Of those that did manage, disease, starvation, or infection claimed half of them. In short, the only people who were left at the end of such horrible ordeals and tests of survival were the strongest of the strong; those who were both physically and magically well endowed and able to withstand the overwhelming odds that had been placed against them.

Of those that did survive, certain groups stood out above the rest. Those were the ones who practiced more ancient and traditional ways of honing themselves physically and mentally. They were the people who were able to achieve extraordinary, almost superhuman, levels of self-discipline, control, and fitness: both in terms of the body as well as the mind. In other words, those who practiced the ancient methods of martial arts and used them to enhance their bodies and their magical capabilities were the ones who had the distinct advantage when surviving in the wild. Coupled with the fact that many of these groups that practiced said techniques were already located in the wild and rugged parts of Asia, and the fact that the methods and tactics aided in survival against Gears as well as against nature, and their survival was almost guaranteed. Equally guaranteed along with it was that fact that these techniques and practices would be of greater importance and pervasion among the survivors of this time.

Jam Kuradoberi had been born in a "hot spot" of such techniques and practices: China. The world that she emerged into closely resembled the China of the 19th Century rather than the 21st. Her community, as well as most of the communities in the country, was still struggling to rebuild itself after the war, and had not had as much time to do so as the earlier liberated portions of Europe had. Many of the amenities and technologies that were part and parcel in that part of the world were unheard of in her corner. Most business that went on in her village was subsistence farming, and what work was done was usually performed by animals or, if a township was lucky, a shared communal tractor. Houses were made of wood and plants rather than steel and plaster. However, in spite of all that it was lacking, there were two very important things that the community possessed.

One was that it had been founded and settled by the denizens of three separate and distinct martial arts schools, who, following the routing of the Gears from China, descended from the mountains and returned to the more fertile river valleys to rebuild. In a rare display of human kinship outdoing human pride or arrogance, the three schools had agreed to unite rather than exist separately within the township, potentially creating enmity between its residents. What emerged was a new school that taught three styles of martial arts as part of its curriculum.

Jam's parents had been poor farmers, but they had been different from most other parents, who reared children as solely a means of getting more labor hands to work the rice fields. They wanted a better life for their daughter. Since the community was poor in almost every other form of education or trade, they enrolled their daughter in the martial arts school at the age of four. Most of Jam's early memories were from that place…and they were not fond. The instructors there had been severely strict. They ran exercises and drills until many of the other children collapsed from exhaustion or were covered with bruises or worse. They worked Jam until her hands were covered with calluses and until she was too sore to sleep. Days would go by where she couldn't pick up anything due to her hands shaking so much from the muscles being exhausted. The meals were once a day and were meager; barely enough to keep them from starving and always burned or undercooked. The mats they had to sleep on were threadbare and did nothing to keep the cold from the floor off of them, or the hardness for that matter. It was brutal torture for the girl and she endured it for ten years.

It was not without merit, however. Jam excelled in her classes. Her only real motivation was to do things right the first time and learn them as quickly as possible, to prevent having to do more drills or grueling exercises. Yet regardless of what was the source of the motivation, it worked. She quickly mastered the basics of all three classes, then moved on to the intermediate level and finally the expert. She transcended beyond that as well, beginning to improvise and adapt with all three schools. Her instructors were justly pleased with her, and she managed to actually garner some rare praise from them as time went on. However, in spite of all of this, Jam wasn't pleased with herself. Martial arts may have come easy to her, but they weren't what appealed to her. She longed for something more; something that truly interested her that she could truly have as a life's pursuit.

As it turned out, the second item of interest her town possessed accommodated that.

Jam's particular township happened to be a reservoir of numerous cooking techniques and chefs. Indeed, it had been a culinary hub that had managed to remain in spite of the Gear Wars devastating everything else. There was an annual festival in her community that took place every year around the time for the rice harvest. However, she never went to it until she reached the age of ten. That was when she was given leave from her training grounds to attend it for one day. Desperate to have a reprieve from her exercises, she gladly went out to the festival and, through some act of chance or fortune, found herself at one of the main events. Each year, several different families in the community would compete to see who could prepare the best rice dish. Anyone was allowed to enter, with the only requirement being that rice had to be included in whatever meal they prepared. Each one would have all day to make whatever dish they wanted, and at sundown the judge would go around and sample each meal to find the best one. The winner received community acclaim as well as a prize that was donated by the village (perhaps a set of festive garments or a pig).

Jam still remembered first wandering into the grounds of the contest, where all the people were cooking at once. She remembered the aroma striking her nostrils and how she thought she had wandered into heaven. Until that point, she could only remember the meals that had been cooked inside her school. She had seen them several times, and they were always made without spices or flavors, from the cheapest ingredients, and with the lowest amount of effort possible. Her tongue had nearly gone numb from eating such bland, tasteless, unpalatable meals for so many years. But here was something different entirely. Everywhere people were mixing all sorts of exotic foods and spices in their meals… Only the finest ingredients were being selected and prepared with loving care… It was practically an epiphany to Jam, who never before had seen food prepared with such skill and focus. She ended up watching all of the competitors all day, seeing what techniques they were using…what spices they were adding…and learning all she could about various ways to prepare rice for a meal.

Jam had a small amount of money on hand that her parents had given her. She ended up spending it all on sampling three different rice dishes from three different competitors. It was the wisest purchase she had ever made, in her opinion. That night, she felt as if she was floating on a dream from the food she ate. The feeling carried her all the way back to the training hall and left her feeling comfortable and happy for once as she lay on the cold floor of the sleeping room.

The next day, however, there was no more festival and the same old food was served Jam. This time, she could barely stomach it. Not after she had sampled something so delicious and wonderful could she so easily return to eating bland and horrid food. It made her nauseous to even try. She felt for certain that she would have starved to death had she not made an unusual request of her master that same day. Though she possessed no cooking experience at the time and barely had the slightest introduction to the world of food, she asked that she be allowed to cook the meals from now on for the entire student body. The master was surprised at such a request but he granted it, thinking it would mean one more chore that the students could carry out instead of the adults. Before she knew exactly what she had been asking, Jam was an amateur chef.

Jam's first few culinary "experiments" were rather horrid, but no more so than what they had been served before, and so the students didn't seem to notice. However, she went to work improving herself. She experimented using the techniques she had seen at the festival, but spent her spare moments going into town and watching other cooks at work and learning from them. She soon learned that techniques were useless without proper ingredients and spices, and the school wouldn't provide her with any. Therefore, she spent the rest of her spare time doing whatever odd jobs she could find for bits of money around the community: chopping wood, weeding vegetable gardens, slopping hogs, and using that to buy her own ingredients. These she put to work cooking, and soon the students began to notice the improving quality of the food. However, it wasn't long before they were doing more than that. Jam took to cooking even more naturally than she did to martial arts. It seemed like a second nature to her. She continued to gather more tips and ingredients until she felt safe beginning to improvise a bit. To her surprise, her own creations were well received, even better than her recipe dishes. Meal time soon became one of the favorite expectations at her school rather than an item for drudgery to be dreaded arriving.

Jam continued in her martial arts training, and at age fourteen graduated from the school, a master of all three arts offered there. But her cooking training had just begun. Rather than leasing herself out as a tutor of martial arts, Jam hired herself as a cooking assistant in town. Once she did so, she continued to gather secrets and techniques from all of the cooks that she could, devoted more of her resources to improving her stock of ingredients, and sharpening her own style. She began to quiz cooks and chefs that passed through the town from time to time to widen her repertoire even further. She made attempts to enter the rice cooking contest that her village offered, but due to being an apprentice to numerous cooks in town, she was prohibited from doing so. Instead, she was forced to work under them for each contest, leaving them to receive all the credit and acclaim.

However, that all changed during her eighteenth year. That year, the prize that was offered was rather generous: a ticket to Hong Kong. When Jam saw this, it was as if destiny had struck her. Hong Kong was a great center of commerce and communication from around the world, both in pre-Gear times as well as the post era. There were infinite numbers of technologies, cooks, ingredients, and anything else that an emerging chef could want passing through there as well as countless customers from around the world. Seeing this made Jam realize what she wanted in life. She would go to Hong Kong. She would absorb and learn from all the people passing through the city. Then, she would pool that knowledge together in order to open a world class restaurant that would cater to the masses. In doing so, she would realize her dream of becoming a world-renown chef.

Jam immediately quit her current job so that she could enter herself as a participant in the rice contest. At long last, she entered under her own name and to use her own talents. The day of the tournament, Jam poured out all the labor, love, and skill that she had acquired into making the most appetizing dish of shrimp-fried rice that she had ever had the fortune to lay eyes upon. Basic as the dish was, she put the utmost care into putting just the right amount of spices into it, selecting only the best ingredients, and carefully preparing each food item. It was her masterpiece.

Sweat flowed from every pore when the judges came to taste it. She crossed her fingers and hoped beyond hope for an answer in the affirmative. Despite all the effort she had put into it, she still had her doubts about her own skill and how relative she would be to others. However, such fears ended up ill founded. The judge proclaimed it was the best shrimp-fried rice that he had ever tasted, and proclaimed Jam the winner. The young woman practically passed out as she was given that year's award, having never felt so happy.

The next day, Jam had packed up a few sets of clothes, her prized cooking utensils, a few of her own special seasonings, and her toothbrush. She bid farewell to her mom and dad, and then proceeded to spend her last bit of saved up money on buying a cab to take her to the train station. From there, she used her ticket to take her to Hong Kong. On arrival and stepping out, she didn't care how dirty the streets were, how crowded and boxed in the people were, how strange and unusual all the architecture was, or even how foul the air smelled. It was paradise to her: one step closer to her great goal of opening her restaurant and becoming a world-class chef.

That had been a few years ago.

Getting closer to that goal had proven far more difficult than winning that contest.

Jam had been wandering from one job to the next ever since. She tried getting hired at the major restaurants at first, but none of them would take in a "cook from the sticks". They only wanted chefs that had gone through major culinary schools. That left the dives and, unfortunately for her, Jam was far too sophisticated for most of them. Her skill was in the kitchen. As far as remembering orders or bussing tables went, she stank. That made her useless for pulling waitress duty. That left her only potential role being as a cook; a position that rarely became available in the lower quality kitchens. She could rarely get a job there, and instead ended up working in an assortment of other low-paying roles, such as delivering papers or stocking shelves in stores. When she did get a job, it usually ended up how this latest job had ended.: with her skill outstripping what was demanded of her and ending up getting her fired.

The problem, Jam soon discovered, was that one could not simply walk to an empty building and open a restaurant. It cost money…a _lot_ of money. In more ancient times, there may have been banks that people could go to in order to get things called "loans", but there was nothing of the sort in China anymore. The government was too busy trying to keep itself afloat to give out subsidies to anyone except agricultural workers. The only way she would be opening a restaurant would be if she paid for it herself. But in order to open a decent one, she would have to pay somewhere on the order of hundreds of thousands of world dollars. And with her current rate of employment, she had barely had the chance to accumulate enough cash to open a food cart…

Jam was brooding over this particular facet at the moment as she sat in the corner of the neighborhood dry cleaners in a wire-frame seat that the establishment provided. She wasn't very far from her crummy, one-room studio apartment, which didn't even possess a decent kitchen inside it to be able to cook anything reasonably well. It wouldn't be like she would try anyway with all the roaches running around leaving their feces everywhere. There was no telling what would end up on the food you tried to make. All of her cooking she did on the job, or cooked herself in restaurants she went out to if they would let her. She hated living there, but she had purposely gotten a cheap room in order to save up as much money as possible toward the restaurant. The fact of the matter was she wasn't working in very high-paying jobs to begin with, and unless her standard of living was incredibly low she would never save anything. She was, however, rather far from where her last place of employment had been. She had to walk nearly three miles to get there every day, and so she had been forced to walk here soaked in sweet-and-sour sauce for that same distance, attracting every night bug and fly in Hong Kong. Luckily, this dry cleaner was open late and was one hour. Thank heavens for small favors…

Jam was currently dressed in a sleeveless undershirt and her lace lower skirt. The main slip portion of her dress was being cleaned by an elderly couple that ran the dry cleaners…or at least, the better half of the two of them. The husband was seated at the front of the store, turning his attention from looking up and out to the front of the shop toward a newspaper planted in front of him over the countertop from time to time. It was quiet, save for the sound of droning dry-cleaning machinery running in the background. It was a rather dull noise, and it would have probably put Jam to sleep if she wasn't still so upset after losing her latest job. Her eyes slowly turned around the room, looking at the man, his wife, the machinery, and then back to the window outside. She sighed.

 _Maybe they're hiring here… I can take whatever job I can get in this market…_

 _Let's see…how much do I have? I've got about 3,000 stashed away in my savings…and that translates into…about 200 world dollars. Aw man…I just broke 200 for the first time! I thought my luck was starting to turn around… Well…half of that will be gone in two weeks when I have to pay the rent, so I've got to make some more money fast if I want to keep any of it._

 _Dangit…I wish I could get another cooking job…but where? I've applied to almost every restaurant in town. If only those bigwigs would let me cook something for them! Then they'd see that I could cook and that they could hire me! But no…they just brush me off like I'm nothing… Ugh, this is so frustrating!_

Jam was in the middle of this latest train of thought when she heard a jingling noise. Distracted from her brooding, she looked up to the doorway. The owner had one of those old laser doorbells strung across the threshold that rang whenever someone entered. She wasn't alone in looking up, but the man at the counter did the same thing.

Five young men, one after another, came into the store. Each one of them was dressed in shades of black or other dark colors, and their clothing was loose and baggy. They wore jeans, and they were bunched up around oversized sneakers on each of them. As far as accessories were concerned, each was wearing large straps and buckles around the neck and wrists with spiked studs embedded in them, almost like collars or chains of some sort. Their hair was long and styled in a "mess" type of array, so that it spilled over their faces halfway or was arranged in a semi-spike of some sort. Each one of them wore a bandanna to keep the hair out of their eyes, but Jam immediately noted that the colors that they wore were crimson and gold.

She grew apprehensive on seeing that, as did the old man at the counter.

Those were local gang colors.

Gang violence was a problem in any major city, and Hong Kong was no exception. There were several notorious groups that roamed around the metropolis, each one of them having their own standard of color to identify each other easily. Normally, the police could do little about them. They were either undermanned or poorly equipped and that was usually in the magical department. The youths that joined the bigger gangs were usually of the higher level magic variety, Cs or greater. After all, if you had that sort of power, and you either wanted to flaunt it or you couldn't get any other sort of job that made use if it due to position, lack of education, or lack of resources, that was what you usually ended up as. It wasn't uncommon to be able to negate little old things like bullets and average swords.

Jam couldn't tell what kind of magics the five of them might be, but they all looked rather muscular. And she knew for a fact that she would never see five of them together in her neighborhood unless they were out looking for trouble. She swallowed a bit at the thought of what might happen next.

The five looked around the area as they came in, seeming to be checking to make sure there were no security cameras, police officers, or strong-looking bystanders around. As a result, it didn't take long for two of them to spot Jam. The young woman vigorously tried to suppress a sigh, and, as nonchalantly as possible, turned her head to one side, hoping that they would see that she wasn't looking at them and not paying them any attention in vain hope that they would treat her in the same way.

No such luck.

"Hey, pretty lady…" Out of the corner of her eye, Jam noticed that one of them was approaching her. "What's the matter? You feeling hot?"

"I'm getting my dress cleaned." Jam stated in response, not turning to the one approaching her.

"You're looking hot too, pretty lady." The approaching one cooed, ignoring the first response she made. "Hey, how come you don't look at me when I talk to you?"

"Maybe she thinks she's too good for you." A different one suggested.

"Yeah, that's right." Another chimed in.

Jam saw the approaching one come to a halt well within her "personal space". He squatted down so that he was head level with the woman. "Is that true, pretty lady?" He asked, his voice taking a slight edge to it as he spoke. "Do you think you're too good for me?"

"…Don't harass my customers."

Jam tilted her head slightly, angling it back toward the counter. It was the man there who had spoken. As she looked back, Jam noticed that the woman in the back had stopped working, and was now looking nervously out to the front of the store. As for the man at the counter himself, he was trying to look as firm as possible, but his hesitation was showing.

"Lookie here…" The one nearest the old man spoke up, turning to his friends as he did so. He gestured to the old man. "We got a brave one. Hey old man…know what we do to brave people?"

The old man swallowed in response, but did his best to maintain his look. "The lady doesn't want to be bothered…"

"Why don't you just keep the f*** out of it, old man?" The next nearest one said. "Or are you looking to spend the night hanging with the rest of your shirts?"

The nearby one turned back to Jam and gestured behind him. "Who's that supposed to be? Your boyfriend?" He asked with a chuckle. "Way he's standing up for you like that?"

Jam didn't answer or turn to look at him. She felt herself starting to tense. She had hoped that these five would stick to themselves and just talk for a bit before walking away. It looked like this wouldn't be the case though. Her hand clenched into a fist, then relaxed to let her fingers wave, then resumed being a fist again.

The one nearest the counter stepped in closer. "How much cash you bring in tonight, old man?"

The man didn't answer. Still trying to look bold, he turned his eyes away from the gang member now staring him in the face.

In response, the gang member's look turned to a frown. He reached out over the counter and proceeded to give the old man a light slap across the face. It still had sufficient force to cause his head to swing to one side.

"I asked you a question, old man. How much money did you bring in tonight?"

The man was trembling now, despite his attempts to be brave. He slowly turned his head back up from the direction it had been slapped, a red mark forming alongside his cheek. The woman in the back stared up front fearfully now. She seemed to be trying to make a decision, whether or not to remain there or to get up and go for the nearest phone. There was silence in the room for a short period of time.

"Hey…look at me when I'm talking to you, you prissy c***."

Suddenly, Jam felt a hand shoot out and seize her by the chin. Before she could react, she felt her head being spun in the direction of the gang member squatting in front of her. His face was looking angry now, although he smiled a bit when he got her to look at him at last. Yet it wasn't a friendly or amused smile. It was dark and full of dark thoughts and motives behind it.

Another slap rang out; harder this time. The owner's head went to the side, and this time his upper body went a bit with it.

"Still playing silent, you old bastard?"

"He wants his ass kicked, is what he wants."

"Let's give it to him."

Slowly, the owner pulled his head back to its previous position. There was a small amount of blood coming from the corner of his mouth now. He held momentarily, but then suddenly acted. Moving his hands over to the register, he pressed a button on it. The drawer immediately popped open. Moments later, he was scooping his hands inside it and pulling out what was within and setting it in front of him, between himself and the gang member.

"Take it." He stated with a quivering voice. "Take it and go."

However, the gang members merely looked to each other at this and gave a chuckle, even as he continued to pull dollars out and place them in front of him. The one nearest looked back to him after a moment. "Well, well…being awful polite now, I see. Well what if we don't want your chump change, old timer?" His voice grew more dangerous after this. "What if we want to have a little fun with you and that old bag back there instead?"

"I said look at me!"

The hand seized her chin again, harder this time. It crushed inward and pinched. It forced Jam's head to face the gang member in front of her again. When Jam looked to him, she saw that he was rather angry looking now, and seemed to be regarding her with growing loathing.

"Prissy c***… Think you need to learn some manners… I think I'm going to have to teach you…"

Suddenly, the gang member shot forward right in her face, lips extended…the first sure sign that he was about to begin to force himself upon her.

That was the last straw.

Abruptly, Jam shot her knee up in between the two of them, and brought it directly into the man's windpipe, crushing it. The man froze where he was. His eyes bulged and his mouth opened as he began to gag. Yet Jam didn't give him long to remain like that. Immediately, she put both arms down on the sides of the chair beneath her. Once she had them there, she locked them in place, and forced her entire body up into the air. She only did this to free up her legs, and when she did, she swung both of them upward and smashed them under the chin of the gang member in front of her in a double kick. The force of it ripped the man up and out of his squat, then took him up into the air off of his feet, before letting him sail back and fall to the ground.

The four remaining gang members turned and looked to see their comrade just as he was landing. He smacked the ground hard and slid back a distance toward them. They saw Jam, lowering her legs again to the floor and beginning to push up from them to rise from her seat.

They began to move in on her. However, due to her position, only one at a time could come in to attack. The first one to arrive balled his hand into a fist and swung it at her stomach as she was still getting up. Yet in the time it took him to do so, Jam had pushed herself partially out of the chair, and proceeded to reach underneath between her legs and yank the chair out from beneath them. She raised it up and put it between her and the attacker just as his fist came in, and he smashed it against the hard material of the chair bottom rather than her. A loud thunk resulted, and he yanked his hand back in pain. While he was stunned, Jam swung around in a circle, still holding onto the chair, and then use the built-up momentum to smash it into the side of his head, fracturing the item of furniture in doing so. Needless to say, the gang member also collapsed afterward.

That took care of the first two but they were the smallest of the five. The other three looked bigger, and could potentially be class Cs. Therefore, as the third approached, Jam quickly reared back on one leg and curled her other one up against her body, assuming a ready position. It was a rather odd stance for one who wasn't accustomed to it, and the third one hesitated a moment on seeing it. Then he curled his lips, sneered a curse at her, and advanced. He did so leaving himself completely open, and so Jam went about greeting him with a heel kick to the solar plexus. As the air went rushing out of the gangster's lungs and he doubled over, she gave him the heel again, this time slamming it across his face one way, and then kicked out again to snap his head the other way. To finish it up, she put her foot back to the ground, stepped forward, and proceeded to give him a dual chop to either side of his neck, making sure to hit the pressure points. The gangster gave a mild cry in response but then collapsed to the ground.

The fourth one was already moving in as the third one fell, so Jam obliged him by moving up after him. As she approached, she engaged in a nimble leap and twist in the air, delivering a flying roundhouse kick to his face. The man was stunned by this move and hesitated, enabling Jam to land, then step in and deliver a double hit…first in the form of driving forward an elbow strike into the man's chest, then extending her arm to give the back of her fist to his skull. She swung her body around afterward in the opposite direction, extending her opposing fist and striking it against the side of his head. Then, once she was aimed fully toward him, she drove an iron palm into his face. For a finisher, she engaged in a flip kick, catching him hard under the chin and sending him staggering back before he fell to the ground.

The fifth, and final and largest one, gave out a yell as he shot forward with a meaty fist flying straight for the young woman's face. Jam nimbly extended an arm to block and deflect it, and answered back by burying her opposing hand into his exposed kidney. The man's eyes bulged and he staggered momentarily, but he didn't give up. Pulling his fist back and gritting his teeth in rage, he swung his other arm in a hook for her head. Jam simply ducked under this one, and then proceeded to give dual iron palms: one to the body and the other to the chin, snapping his head back briefly. As he recovered from this blow, his face began to turn red with fury. Giving a practical roar of rage, he lunged for the young woman. Jam, in turn, calmly took him by one arm, sidestepped out of his path, and then violently swung and twisted the appendage, wrenching it painfully and using his own momentum to flip him over. He sailed for the ground back first and smashed hard against it.

The gangster fumed on the ground for a moment, but then gave another roar and shot up to his feet. As he did, Jam resumed her ready position and turned around to face him. The moment he was standing and facing her again, she began her onslaught. First she snapped his head to one side to stun him, then she drove out with her leg in several thrust kicks, pummeling him in the gut and the head in an alternating fashion. She did so with eight separate kicks, beating him so rapidly and strongly that he couldn't react. Finally, she yanked her leg back and gave him sweeping kicks again, knocking his head from side to side twice. On the second kick, a bloody tooth flew out from his mouth. That done, she brought her leg down, twirled around, snapped her other leg up, and drove it forward into his chest. The force of the blow ripped him clean off of his feet and sent him sailing back to the counter, where he was halted by the object impeding his path. His body sprawled out against it, and his face developed a lazy look to it in addition to forming bruises and injuries. He was stunned from the beating.

Jam only paused a moment after this, but then moved in for the "kill". Tightening one of her hands into a clenched fist, she stepped forward toward the gangster, squatted slightly, and then delivered a punishing uppercut to his agape, protruding face. The force of it ripped the man off of his feet and over the counter, as well as taking him backward. His body sailed up and over the obstruction until it reached the clothing racks that were positioned behind it. In particular, he reached one end of them that happened to be rough and capped in such a way to make a hook. It caught his loose clothing rather easily, and as he went back down to the ground, carried by gravity's force, it continued to hold. Soon, the beefy gangster was suspended from the clothing rack by his own shirt. His head slumped against his chest and moved no more.

Jam let out a slow exhale, still extended in the position of her last blow. But then, calming down, she drew her arm back and returned it to her side. She cracked her neck once and looked over her handiwork. All five gangsters were now unconscious, with four of them littering the front foyer floor of the cleaners and the one hanging up in the back. Most of them were beginning to develop severe bruises and bumps on their faces, and were lightly moaning. Her eyes looked in particular to the one who had been making a move on her. His head was turning from side to side, indicating that he was coming to. Frowning, Jam quickly lowered herself and gave him an additional punch to the head, knocking him out cold once again. She straightened up afterward, and turned back to the counter.

The couple were staring in utter surprise at her, dumbfounded by what they had witnessed. On seeing that, Jam began to feel twinges of embarrassment. Looking slightly nervous, she reached up and rubbed the back of her head with something of a sheepish grin.

"Um…sorry you guys had to see that…"

"Sorry?" The old man echoed in reply, looking confused. Immediately afterward, his face turned to enthusiasm. "That was incredible! Those five never even laid a finger on you!"

Jam only smirked nervously and gave an innocent shrug. "Well…you know…when you've studied martial arts for so long, they come in useful from time to time. Especially in a bad neighborhood. They're not things I like to brag about or flaunt, though…" She hesitated a moment, but then looked over to the woman. Desperate to change the subject, she spoke up to her. "Um…shouldn't you be calling the police?"

The old woman blinked for a few moments, as if awakening from a daze. But then, she raised her head suddenly and gave a nod. Turning away, she went back into the rear of the store toward the phone. The old man wasn't finished, however. He began to point to the various gang members lying around.

"I know these boys. I've seen them in the neighborhood many times. They're not anything to sneeze at. That one you left hanging on my clothing rack…he's a class C magic. I've seen him push around three armed policemen before with them doing nothing about it. Any one person who can do that to a class C magic is something special."

Jam blushed a bit, wishing that they'd just drop it already. She rubbed her palms nervously and stepped around a bit in place. "Yeah, well…thanks for the compliment, but I'm not really in to martial arts… I'm a cook, you see…and I need my uniform. So if you want to thank me, could you just hurry up and clean that up so I can-"

Suddenly, the old man slapped his hand against the counter. The action was so sudden that it caused Jam to shut up in an instant. He pointed his finger at her with a smile. "I bet you could even deal with a Gear. I bet you could take care of that Gear."

Jam blinked a bit on hearing that. "…Gear? What Gear?"

"What, you didn't hear? It's been all over the news. Here, look and see for yourself…" He reached down and picked up the newspaper he was reading, and folded it over so that the front page was showing. After doing so, he aimed it up and held it in front of him so that Jam could clearly read the front page title. The young woman hesitated momentarily, but then leaned in closer and looked at it.

 _ACTIVE GEAR FOUND IN GERMANY: Local village nearly massacred overnight; World leaders post bounty of 500,000 world dollars._

Jam's eyes widened as she focused on the latter part. "500,000?!"

The old man nodded. "And I bet a girl like you could walk away with that money too. I don't even think a Gear could stand up to a technique like that."

Jam barely heard this. She was focused too much on the amount. 500,000 world dollars…more than enough to open the biggest, most luxurious, top-of-the-line restaurant she could ever hope for. She knew that well, for she had calculated how much she would need time and time again. And there it was…right for the taking, for whoever managed to claim it by defeating this active Gear…

Jam knew very little about Gears herself, having grown up in the liberated portion of Asia after their time had vanished in that part of the world, and there had been little incoming news in that backwards part of the nation of China. But nevertheless, her mind began to work. All at once, today had gone from being a bad day to a glorious one. It was so clear to her now. Everything that had transpired had happened for a reason. The firing and the sweet-and-sour pork disaster had led her here, where she had encountered the gang. In beating them up, she had gotten access to this news article. And now, it was telling her that her dream was in reach. Her years of toiling and struggling to learn martial arts no longer seemed to be for nothing. They were for this moment; the time in which she would put them to use in order to obtain her true goal…

It would devour the rest of her savings to get a plane ticket to Germany but she didn't care. She'd more than make up for it soon. This was her moment. This was her destiny. Defeat the Gear…collect the money…become a world-famous chef. Three parts that would simply fall into place one after the other.

Filling with an eager spirit, Jam suddenly stepped forward and practically got into the old man's face, making him recoil in a bit of surprise.

"Could you please hurry up with my uniform?" She asked him as politely as she could, trying to suppress the eagerness in her voice. "I've got to get a move on if I'm going to beat that Gear before anyone else does."

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	5. Brigands

**"** **Brigands"**

* * *

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR JOHNNY… HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO-"

"No, no, NO!"

The crew immediately went silent in response to the sudden outburst by the second-in-command. May, in turn, glared at them with daggers shooting from her eyes. She slumped and let her arms hang low to the ground, descending from where they had been a moment earlier, namely conducting the group.

"What the heck is that supposed to be?" She angrily shouted. "You're all falling flat on the most important part, 'Johnny'! And Sephy, July, and March…you're all coming in late!"

The various crew members of the Jellyfish Air Pirates sighed. Some of them rolled their eyes. Others propped their heads up on their elbows. All of them began to look rather tired, as if this wasn't the first time that it had happened. t was closer to the twentieth. One would think that May was conducting a Beethoven concerto rather than the simple tune of "Happy Birthday".

April scratched the side of her head nervously. "Um, March can't really sing, May…"

"That's no excuse!" The girl blasted in response. "This is Johnny's birthday we're talking about, which is the most important calendar date of the entire year! And while the rest of you may not care one way or another about Johnny, I'm making sure that he's going to have the very best birthday in the history of mankind!"

July sighed and rolled her head skyward. "For crying out loud, May…do we have to go through this same speech every year?"

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to try and top yourself every year?! Now let's take this from the top again!" Both hands went into the air in a conducting manner. The crew gave out a unified groan, but straightened up once again and got into position. May waited only a few moments for them to do so, but then began to conduct.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR JOHNNY…"

"He's coming!"

May's arms slammed down to her sides as her face turned into a furious snarl. "Those aren't even the right words!" She screamed at the one who had spoken, Octy.

The girl shook her head furiously. "No, listen!"

May did as she was told and went silent, along with the rest of the crew. It didn't take long for them to hear movement. A periodic metallic tapping was ringing out over the ceiling; the telltale sign of footsteps, the pattern indicating that whoever was making them was headed straight for the lounge.

May's eyes went wide as saucers. "Everyone!" She blasted in a harsh whisper. "Disassemble!"

Everyone went everywhere. Even Janis jumped out of Sephy's arms and fled to the warm TV in the corner, where she leapt on top and immediately curled up in a sleeping position. As for everyone else, they instantly tried to look busy. Febby ran over to the lounge's couch and pulled up her ledger, beginning to write furiously. March dashed off for her room, tripping on her clothes at least twice while she did so. June ran off to a corner and pulled out one of her instruments, beginning to fiddle with it. July and Augus ran over to an open section of the floor, got down on their bellies, and instantly began a fake arm wrestling match. Sephy dashed for the broom closet and began to go for the mop and bucket. Octy, Novel, and Leap all attempted to go for the door, realized it was too late for that, and so went off by themselves and pretended to be chatting. April went over to the couch, threw herself on top of it, and leaned back, pretending to be lounging. Finally, May herself took up her large anchor and began to perform a few practice swings with it.

After a moment, the hatch handle on the heavy metal bulkhead leading to the lounge gave a turn. The door swung open, and a tall man dressed in black and wearing sunglasses and a wide brimmed hat bent down slightly stepped inside, grabbing for the brim with one hand while holding a long wooden straight-shafted cane with the other. A slight smile was on his face, and he gazed about the chamber, looking at all the members of his crew and seeming to be pleased that they were all keeping busy. As he did so, May struggled to look as if she had been practicing for an hour, and April tried to relax and not look at him. After taking a few steps inside, the man in black came to a halt. He held his cane at his side and gazed about one more time before making his announcement.

"Alright everyone…front and center!"

Instantly, everyone dropped what they were doing. They got up and ran to the front of the chamber, forming a line in front of Johnny. Each one stood tall and upright as they arrived, fully "at attention". May herself, when she took her position at the front of the line, attempted to hold her head up a bit higher and make herself slightly taller than everyone else. Johnny turned and paced over the line a bit, like a commander surveying his troops, and examined each girl…some of them a bit too closely in some areas…until he made his way to May. Once there, he turned and faced her fully.

"Ms. May…" He began with a pseudo-grandiose air. "Is the crew in full operational capacity and raring and ready to go for their next assignment?"

"Yes, captain! All set!" May boomed in response.

"Excellent, Ms. May." Johnny answered, still maintaining the air about him. Although things were rather "lax" on the ship, Johnny could take a strict command when he needed to. Now wasn't one of those times, but the crew still fell in and acted to the best of their abilities as if one of those moments was incoming at any time. Besides, it impressed Johnny, and most of them were interested in doing that at any given time.

"So where to today, captain?" April spoke up from her position in line. "Zepp? We haven't hit Zepp in a long time…"

Johnny shook his head. "No…we're not going to be running any raids on Zepp for a while, remember?"

There was a change in the wind on Zepp at the moment. In the old days, Johnny would have been more than happy to make a monthly run on the floating nation, considering how oppressive it was to its own people and how offensive it was toward every other country in the world. However, times had changed in the past few weeks. There was a revolution underway now; one that was toppling the current regime and promising a freer and more prosperous future for its citizens. Johnny was still watching the situation for the time being, as were they all, but he had actually considered making a drop off of supplies to the rebels who were currently waging the conflict rather than carrying out a pillaging raid as they normally did.

"The States, then?" June suggested. "We haven't been to them in a long time…and we could get some hamburgers while we're there…"

Johnny kept his smile on his face, but also shook his head at that mention, seeming to enjoy the girls trying to guess the locale. "No…we won't be hitting the States today. Maybe after the next mission."

"I heard Russia excavated some new atomic fuel." Novel offered. "That'd make a nice target."

He shook his head again. "Nope…"

"Um…the Ukraine's breadbasket?" Leap threw out.

"No…" Johnny continued to tease.

"Oh, just tell us already, captain!" May finally spat out. "Where are we headed?"

Johnny turned away from May after this and faced the line again. A moment later, he began to pace back the way he had come. He was silent for a few seconds as he looked up into everyone's face again. Then he reached into his black coat and emerged with a slip of paper. He tossed it down in the middle of the line of girls and indicated.

"Feast your eyes on that."

Immediately, the crew broke the line and crowded around the piece of paper put on the floor to read it. May frowned as a result. Seeing as she was on the end, it was hardest for her to get to a place where she could see. However, she managed to push herself forward and sandwich her body in between Febby and April. Her large anchor, being dragged behind her, helped out immensely in asserting her presence. Once she did get in close enough, with much grunting and straining, she tipped her eyes downward and read the large print.

 _NOTICE: WORLD-APPLICABLE BOUNTY PLACED ON THE CAPTURE OR ELIMINATION OF RECENTLY DISCOVERED ACTIVE GEAR. Amount: 500,000 World Dollars. Last Known Whereabouts: Schwarzwald Region of Germany. WARNING: Gear is to be considered extremely dangerous. 40 confirmed fatalities._

May focused rather intently on one word…

 _Gear…_

A shudder moved down the girl's spine. She still remembered what the case had been ten weeks ago. How she had been a prisoner of the only Gear she had ever had the distinctive "pleasure" of meeting… That entire operation had been the first time she had been out flying solo, and she had to admit that it didn't go that well. After being beaten black and blue by that giant, she had woken up in a suspended cage, the hostage of the Gear host of the "tournament" that she had been drawn to hoping for a way to save Johnny from imprisonment. She still remembered his dark demeanor and icy voice, and how she had thought more than once that she was going to die. Before she was done, she had met up with assassins, lunatics, IPF officers, and more. It was a miracle she had gotten out of that alive. Had it not been for the fact that Johnny had managed to liberate himself and came out personally to meet her and pick her up, May probably would have still been brooding over the events that had transpired in old England. However, they were all brought back to mind in light of this latest article that Johnny had presented.

Augus furrowed her brow and then looked back up to Johnny. "I don't get it. What does it have to do with us?"

Johnny put his cane in front of him and balanced both hands on top of it. "Ladies… This is our latest assignment. We will be traveling to the Schwarzwald, finding this Gear, and collecting the 500,000 world dollar bounty."

All crew members looked up to Johnny at that…and all of them looked rather nervous on hearing this latest proclamation. For one of the rare times in May's life that she could recall, she stared at Johnny as if his head was on fire. Normally, if Johnny told her to jump off of the airship and into the barrel of a Zepp cannon, she would ask, "Which one?" Yet in light of her recent episode, she found herself hesitating.

"We're actually going after the Gear?" April asked incredulously.

Johnny gave a simple nod. "Yes."

"Are you sure we can?" Febby asked next, with trepidation in her voice. "I mean…this isn't like one of our normal missions. This is a Gear…"

"Well, I never said it was going to be easy." Johnny simply responded. "But I'm not exactly kid stuff myself, as you all are well aware. And I'll have my prize crew at my side, including the illustrious May, which means we can't lose."

May, on hearing her name said like this, suddenly stood up a bit higher. Her hesitation vanished and was replaced by surprise. "Wha…me?"

"Well, who else?" Johnny answered with a chuckle. "There's no one who I rely on more in a scrap than you. I know you're tough as nails and got more spirit and bite in you than a mother robin guarding her nest. With you partnering up with me, there isn't a Gear in existence that can take us down."

May felt her insides turn into melted butter. All thoughts of fear and doubt that had previously begun to creep into her mind evaporated as she basked in the glow of Johnny's compliments. On hearing herself praised so highly by her beloved captain, she began to feel lighter than air and almost giddy. Her eyes developed a faraway look in them as a smile began to creep up across her expression.

The others, however, didn't notice this, and persisted.

"This still won't be an easy trip, captain." July spoke up next. "That place will be swarming with IPF officers…and we're still the most wanted, last I checked."

"I could fly us in there, but there's no place that we could possibly land." April threw in. "We'd have to disembark, which means we'd have to form at least two groups…one staying on board and the other going in."

"And there's likely to be hundreds of other bounty hunters going after that money too." Octy added. "We've all got bounties on our heads too…so it's likely that they'll try to grab a few extra world dollars by going after us…"

"What is wrong with you lily-livered cowards?!"

The sudden outburst caused the entire crew as well as Johnny to snap around in surprise. They found themselves looking at May, who had shot to her feet and brandished her anchor over one shoulder.

"What are you…men or mice?!" She demanded. "Don't you know who we are? We're the Jellyfish Air Pirates! We aren't afraid of anything! We eat danger for breakfast! We snap wet towels at terror! We throw our drinks into the faces of challenges! Listen…we've been to every hostile country in the world, committed raids on each one of them, and we walked away without a single loss of life or limb each and every time! Are we about to let ourselves be made fools of and shown up by some stupid Gear?"

"…Didn't you tell me you never wanted to see another Gear again as long as you lived?" April asked.

May ignored the comment and continued her passionate tirade. "Come on, all of you! This Gear is running rampant! Innocents are dying! Fear is gripping the populace! A huge wad of money is waiting to be made! If this sort of mission doesn't just scream for the boldness and courageousness of the Jellyfish Air Pirates, then I don't know what does! Johnny's right! With all of us working together, the Gear doesn't stand a chance! Now buck up! Who's with me?"

The crew hesitated. They looked to one another, and in the end turned back to Johnny. The man in black was grinning at May now. He leaned on his cane and stared at her with that smile, seeming to admire the energy and determination she had just displayed. Finally, the others began to react. Letting out an exhale, April rose to her own feet and gave a nod, first to Johnny and then to May.

"Alright…I'm for it."

Novel rose next, giving a nod as well. "Me too."

July hesitated a bit longer, but then shrugged and smiled. "What the hell? We've been getting a bit too lazy lately anyway. Time for a real challenge."

"We _are_ the Jellyfish Air Pirates, aren't we?" Augus added as she got up. "We can handle one little old Gear."

One by one, the others began to rise. Within a few moments, all were standing, and in a much more cheerful and affirmative mood. They were all smiling now, now that they had the confidence of both their captain and their first mate backing them up. The mission went from being a difficult suicide run to a merry challenge. Once it was done, Johnny nodded to all of them.

"Alright then…it's settled. Febby…make sure to record that we're heading for Germany on our latest mission. April…June…you two get to the bridge and do what you do best. Everyone else to your stations. Our next stop is the Schwarzwald."

* * *

An hour later, and the crew was once again assembled in the lounge, once more minus Johnny.

They sat in a circle on the floor around the center, as there was no table for them to utilize there. There was one in the briefing room, but they weren't about to go there and arouse Johnny's curiosity. As for their previous assignments, there was no need for them to remain at their stations that long after takeoff and the course had been laid in. Under June's guidance, April had aimed them over the ocean to take them straight to Germany. Luckily, they didn't have to worry about dodging any hostile countries along the way, and so they could fly "straight as the crow flies" over a mostly ocean route. It would still take hours to get there, however. They had time to relax once again after the course had been set and autopilot was engaged. The crew normally would stay at their stations while on a mission at this point, but today…they had other concerns in mind. There was another important matter for the Jellyfish Air Pirates to deal with that was up and coming very soon…

The affection and loyalty that the crew bore for Johnny was practically second to none. He was their captain, their leader, and their father figure. Each one of them had been "saved" by Johnny, one after another, at some point in history. He took them in, gave them their home, their identity, their friends, and their sense of fellowship and purpose when the rest of the world had spurned and rejected them. And the fact of the matter was that many of them were still indebted to him constantly. He provided a listening ear when they were troubled, counsel when they were confused, or a saving sword strike whenever they were in danger. They could do very little to repay him for all that he did for them…hence the importance of his birthday. To them, this was the one time of the year in which they were allowed to show their appreciation for their beloved leader. Planning and executing the event was the biggest operation that the girls conducted by themselves in the entire year-their one chance to do something not only truly independent but to try and repay, in some small measure, what Johnny had done for them.

Hence, enacting the birthday plans was done with utmost care and secrecy to ensure that Johnny wouldn't suspect the slightest thing. That meant that frequent organizational meetings like this had to be carried out at every available moment; like when Johnny was currently lounging in his own cabin, leaving them to plan and scheme right under his nose.

"Alright…" May announced. "We'll work on the singing more later. For now…let's move on to the next big issue."

"Right." April nodded. "The gift."

Similar nods went around the table.

Despite the fact that they were pirates, and frequently robbed stashes that were worth thousands of world dollars, the fact was that the crew was nearly always perpetually and totally broke. After all, the group was non-profit. Most of what they pillaged was sent to those who were in need. What they did end up keeping for themselves was used to pay the basic expenses of running the ship and keeping them fed, which was actually a hefty amount. The prices on fuel and oil alone totaled up into the tens of thousands a month. That was to say nothing of various smaller items that they had to worry about, such as maintenance of weapons, personal hygiene items, repairs to clothing, and other minor hassles. What money they did keep was put in a central reserve for all of them to partake of, and that in turn satisfied all of these costs.

The money that did belong to the crew individually was usually found in places few and far between. Some of it was scraped up in the form of loose change off of street corners or in nooks and crannies that they came across. Other money was made when they did a random odd job while in dock or touring an area. Occasionally, they managed to trade one of their personal items for a bit of cash. Then there was their "allowance"; money that Johnny gave to them every once in a while for personal usage. From these bits and pieces of opportunities for cash that were scattered throughout the year, the girls made their own meager salaries.

But when birthday time came around, it was understood that all of them would pool their resources together in order to secure Johnny the biggest gift they could all afford. The gift was never stolen. That sort of thing was reserved for their "redistribution of wealth" activities, and it wouldn't be right to steal it for purely personal profit, even if this was their beloved leader they were talking about. No, they were determined to always do birthday presents "honestly". What more, with all of them contributing, they all had a chance to be in on the gift-giving.

May turned to Febby after they had all agreed on the current topic. "Alright, how much money do we have on hand this year?"

The girl responded by cracking open her ledger and flipping through a certain number of pages. After a short time, she came to a certain one and halted. She took out her pen and ran it along a column written on the page, taking in the tally. The other crew members waited with earnest expression, eager to hear what they had to work with this year.

Febby finished after a moment, but when she did her face froze momentarily before sinking somewhat.

"…Three hundred and six world dollars and seventy-three cents."

Everyone around the table gaped on hearing that figure.

"That's all?" Octy sounded.

"Last year we had four hundred!" April answered.

Febby blanched slightly as she leaned back. "Four hundred and twenty dollars and fifty-six cents, to be exact…"

May's own face sank like a stone. She sagged as her shoulders fell down around her.

"We've got to have more than that…" She whined. "Every year since I've been on board we've gotten him a more expensive gift each new year! We can't take that big of a step back!"

Febby gave a helpless shrug. "It's been a pretty bad year for us, May. We cut back on raids against Zepp…and there was that time period where Johnny and you were both missing…"

"But last year we got him that personal scanner…" Novel spoke up. "That cost almost every cent we had. How can we top that with just three hundred?"

"Three hundred and six…" Febby corrected again.

"Maybe we could make something this time…" June suggested.

Everyone frowned at her. June shrugged.

"What? I'm sure he'd appreciate it…"

"That kind of thinking is the reason we only have three hundred dollars to work with!" May blasted.

"Three hundred and six…"

"Whatever!"

July let out her own tired exhale and gave a shrug. "Well, there's nothing for it that can be done now. Johnny's birthday is in a few weeks, so unless we do a whole lot of missions that end up panning out some serious bread, then we'll just have to deal with it."

"And who knows how long this latest mission is going to take us?" Augus lamented. "We could spend weeks searching for the Gear…and I doubt there's a lot of money lying around in that forest."

"Won't really matter anyway." April answered with her own sigh. "We just finished resupplying. We're only going to probably make berth one more time before Johnny's birthday gets here. That'll be our only chance to buy something. We should probably do something that June suggested. We should get a present and then find a way to 'enhance' it by doing something with it personally."

"How about a new power scrubber? And we can take turns cleaning the deck for a month." Sephy suggested.

Everyone gave her an even darker look than they did June.

Sephy frowned. "Well why am I always the one stuck swabbing the deck, anyway?"

"This isn't about you! It's about Johnny!" May shouted. After doing so, however, she rolled her eyes and slumped backward. "Oh, let's just face it. This birthday is going to be the biggest disaster of our careers. We can't sing. We've got no money. We're going to be stuck with giving him some stupid chores instead of a real present." Her face twisted into a frown and she made a fist and pounded it against the ground. "Dangit…if only we weren't having to go after that stupid Gear! Then we'd have a chance to make some real money! We could dock for a few days and hire ourselves out or…"

May abruptly cut herself off in mid-rant. Suddenly, her eyes went wide. A realization had come over her.

 _Real money…_

May realized she was being an idiot. There was a perfectly good source of some 'real money' right in front of her. A _lot_ of real money. There was that massive bounty that had been placed on the head of the Gear that they were after. 500,000 world dollars. That was enough cash to buy any sort of gift she could think of for Johnny…heck, it was enough to shower him with an assortment of gifts. And it was ripe for the taking too…

Johnny would probably want that money donated or given away…but May knew the rules. Bounty hunting was strictly a "free range" job. If any one of them managed to knock off or capture someone who had a price on their head in their line of work, the money would be theirs to do with as they pleased. And although this was quite a hefty sum to worry about, May realized that the same had to apply here. She realized that Johnny would probably want them to work as a team to take down this Gear; to work together to make sure it was stopped. But what if…just what if…May managed to take it out all by herself? It wouldn't be easy but it was more than possible. People got split up all the time on operations. Individual tasks could be carried out by separate crew members. There was more than a good chance that May could find this Gear all by herself. And if she did find the Gear and beat it, all of that money would be hers. Hers to do with as she pleased.

The thought overwhelmed her with delight as she dwelled on it. With that much money, she could practically buy Johnny a new May Ship. Yet that wasn't the only thing that grabbed her attention. The fact of the matter was, as of the moment, she was only contributing about twenty-five world dollars into the pot for the gift. But with that much money belonging to her…she could buy Johnny her own gift all by herself. She wouldn't need to throw in with all the others to get something halfway decent. And in doing so, she'd have a chance to express her feelings for the captain in a display of love and care through giving him the biggest and best birthday he had ever had before…

That sank it for the girl. She began to rub her hands together in delight at the thought and grin to herself…

"Um…May?"

She continued to smile for a moment, daydreaming of how much she'd make her Johnny smile…about how overwhelmed he'd be at this show of gratitude and praise…when she heard April's voice calling her.

Abruptly, May's smile faded and her hands froze in mid-rub. She blinked once, and saw the crew gathered around her once again. All of them were staring at her with blank looks. Realizing that she wasn't exactly being that discrete about all of this, May grinned weakly and rubbed the back of her head.

"Oh…heh…I was just…um…thinking about how this new idea of giving Johnny a service as well as a present might not be such a bad idea after all. I mean…real gifts come from the heart, not the pocketbook, right?"

The crew looked incredulously back at her.

"…You said a moment ago you hated the idea." Leap answered.

May turned a shade red momentarily, but kept her grin and pulled at her collar around her neck. "Well, uh…I just…um…didn't have time for it to…er…grow on me and stuff… Er…could you all, um, excuse me?" With that, the girl began to push up from the ground and rise to a standing height. As she did, her hand went out and grabbed the "hilt" of her large weapon, and began to pull it forward to sling it over one shoulder.

"Where are you going?" April asked. "Didn't you call this meeting?"

"Well…you guys are doing great without me. So let's just keep brainstorming for a gift idea that we can do with the three hundred world dollars." May quickly answered. "I'm just going to…go practice some more. I mean…I've got to be in tip-top shape for Gear hunting…er, that is…we _all_ need to be in tip-top shape for Gear hunting."

Without another word, May turned and made for the bulkhead, leaving the dumbfounded and confused crew behind her. She didn't really care at the moment. If she was going to take out this Gear by herself, she needed some more training. She hadn't even gotten into striking range of the Gear last time. Still, she had a feeling if it was able to beat up that giant, and the giant had dropped her, then logic suggested it was pretty tough. She would have to be even tougher if she planned on taking it out before Johnny or anyone else could.

 _You just stay alive out there, Mr. Gear…_ May thought to herself as she reached the bulkhead and opened it. _You've got to live long enough through those other bounty hunters so I can kill you!_

* * *

Johnny may not have been exactly on "speaking" terms with the IPF, but that didn't mean he didn't have his ways of spying on them when the need arose. In fact, that was what he had been doing in the days leading up to today, when he made his grand announcement to the crew of what their next target would be.

The man in black was currently reclining in his own cabin, sitting back in a large easy chair that he had pilfered years ago. That was evidenced by the fact that the cushions were stained and ripped through countless hours of usage, but it still sat comfortably enough. From his position in his room, he was able to garner a look about everything inside it. His wall-mounted bed against the window…disheveled and unmade as always. His desk with his own personal maps and effects located against another wall, piled high with papers and charts. On the opposite wall, the rack for his cane, as well as the various cleaning and sharpening supplies that he used in order to maintain his weapon. Across from him, the lock box that contained the ship's funds for operation and maintenance.

Finally, near at hand, a second table, piled high with various devices. Some of them were sophisticated scanners. Others were traces on magical energy output. In particular, he was interested in one older model: a long range radio blotter. The antenna for the device was located on the roof of the May Ship, and it had been enhanced using magical technology. As a result, instead of just being able to pick up radio signals from the geographic surrounding area, it could pick them up from any place in the world that he could key in. And that was just what he had done not too long ago.

The IPF officers that had initially reported to the scene of the Schwarzwald weren't of the higher caliber ilk like those who had arrived later. They didn't follow proper procedures. They used old radio communication as ways of passing information along rather than utilizing the force's private satellite systems. As a result, anyone who had the appropriate bandwidth and technology could peer in on what they were talking about. Things had gone dead in more recent days. Apparently, the higher-ups with the know-how had managed to pass along the message to keep things quiet, but that hadn't been before Johnny had listened in on quite a bit of their conversations. He was privileged to be among the few in the world who had knowledge about this particular case that no one else had.

In particular, he had learned some things about this Gear. Firstly, he realized it was a she, and that it had been raised by a local couple in a small community for some time before it was found out by the outside world. Rapid growth was responsible for that. No one was able to age to adulthood in three years who wasn't a Gear. The fact that it had been found initially as an infant was enough to set the IPF particularly abuzz. This was more shocking news than the fact that it was a sentient, active Gear. The fact that it had apparently been born recently…something that wasn't supposed to be possible for Gears to accomplish.

Furthermore, he had also learned that despite the amount of deaths that were related to this Gear, deaths that she likely had caused, the people who had been murdered weren't entirely blameless themselves. They had been abusing this Gear for some time. At the bare minimum, it constituted physical abuse. Yet Johnny had a feeling if the people who were involved were mostly male, then it likely had involved a different sort of abuse to a female Gear too…

Yet even then, he found himself having a bit of a hard time believing that the Gear would have committed the murders, in spite of the overwhelming evidence to the contrary. There was residue all over the site of magical involvement, traces that could only come from active Gears. And the Gears themselves had been killers throughout the whole of their history on planet Earth. Why should he believe any different now?

 _Actually…there's plenty of good reason to do so._

One was in the fact that the Gears had been under the Command Gear Justice. They did what that Gear wanted, no more and no less. Since the death of Justice, the Gears had all but shut down. They were totally harmless now in their inactive states. They weren't going around killing anyone at this point. They were simply standing there, waiting to be executed by the wrathful human race in whatever dark corner of the world they had found themselves at the time of the death of their leader. Johnny knew that not everyone understood the nature of the Command Gears, but he had done some research of his own during his lifetime. He knew enough to realize that without a Command Gear influencing it, Gears wouldn't necessarily harm a fly. Even that Gear that May had encountered in the London incident didn't outrightly kill her when he could have. That one didn't act like a mindless killing machine. It acted as if it could actually think and reason…even if, as May had reported, it had reasoned to act in a way that involved killing more humans…

But as for this Gear, something else didn't sit right with Johnny. Why had this Gear spent weeks enduring abuse and torture at the hands of her captors, and then all of the sudden one day decide to snap and kill them all? That didn't make sense to him. If it had the power, then why didn't it exercise it sooner? Why would it wait only until after it had been beaten and tormented for so long? If it was a mindless killer, then why hadn't she slain the couple that had raised her the moment she became old enough to do so? Why hadn't she torn up the entire town along with those who had been her tormenters?

Johnny hadn't managed to stay alive and healthy in this business by not trusting his instincts, and whenever his instincts smelled a rat, he found himself almost always right to call it out. Something about this whole scenario wasn't as cut and dry as it all seemed. It didn't match any of the old stories he had heard about Gears in the past during the war or what he had personally experienced. There was something different going on here. And he found himself earnestly wanting to find out what exactly that it was.

To that end…he felt a little guilty about what he had said to the crew. He hadn't told them the whole story about what they would be doing out there. In actuality, they would be living up to his personal creed by going to this place. Johnny didn't believe in things such as racism or classism or any other sort of system that created a method of automatically putting people into categories of any type. That's what the world had done to his girls…what he tried to save them from by bringing them there, so that they would be free to choose their own destiny and make of their lives whatever they wished. In his mind, everyone deserved that one inalienable right more than anything else: a chance.

And he reasoned that if a Gear could think and feel and reason for itself…then it deserved that chance as much as anyone too.

Johnny wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do when he met up with this Gear. Perhaps it would come to a fight. Perhaps not. If the Gear was hostile and just a mindless killing machine like the others were, then he had to find that out. And if that was true, then he'd be more than happy to put a stop to it before it caused any more death or destruction. But if this creature really could end up being peaceful and benign, then she deserved the right to live in peace. He doubted, however, that the IPF, the bounty hunters, or anyone else who went charging into the Schwarzwald was going to be giving her that chance. That made it most important that he get to the Gear first and have it out with her.

He leaned back a bit more in his chair at this thought and folded his hands across his chest. It shouldn't be too hard to accomplish. He was sure the IPF was bringing in its own flying machines, but they had the May Ship and its capabilities too. He was certain that he could have April swing them in for a drop off as soon as they heard word of the Gear being sighted. There wouldn't be many of them dropping down. He thought of bringing July and Augus along for the ride, but in the end he decided that he himself and May would be enough. May had experience, however limited, in dealing with Gears, and he knew he was the best fighter out of all of them. It would be child's play to disable a few IPF officers if they got in the way, and he knew he could handle himself around most bounty hunters in the world. They'd have a clear shot to the Gear herself. After that…who knew?

Johnny looked to the window in the cabin. It was growing dark now outside. Based on what time of day that indicated, he reasoned that they had to be getting close. Already, he had heard the sounds of footsteps leaving the lounge as the girls returned to their stations. He smiled a bit at the thought. They really thought they were fooling him, didn't they? Well, he wasn't about to burst their bubble. He hadn't any other year, and he wasn't going to this year either. He knew full well that his birthday was coming up in a few weeks, and that whenever that happened the crew tended to hang around together in these little "group sessions" more and more often… It made it a bit hard to get some stuff done on the ship, as a matter of fact, but he didn't bother them. Let them do what they wanted.

As it turned out, he only had to recline for another couple of minutes before he heard the call. The intercom near the door suddenly gave a buzz. Turning his head to that, he readily leaned forward and got up from his chair. Keeping his cane at his side, he walked up to the electronic device and pressed the button.

"Johnny here."

 _"_ _Captain, we've just passed over the coastline of northern Germany."_ May's voice answered.

Johnny gave a smile and a nod. "Sounds great, May. I'll be right up."

* * *

Two minutes later, and Johnny was opening the bulkhead to the bridge of the May Ship. As he stepped over the threshold and looked around inside, he took stock of the surroundings. The room was full of various devices, gauges, meters, and controls, lining the back wall and arrayed on several consoles that stretched around the chamber. However, only one real console mattered. There was a large steering wheel similar to an old ship's wheel located dead center at the front of the bridge. April was perched there, steering away and keeping their course steady as they sailed along. June was nearby at a separate console, one that had a large section for maps to be displayed upon it. She had a map of Germany and the surrounding airspace currently inserted into it, and she was using her various instruments to plot a course. May was in the middle of the room, her large anchor poised on the ground and half balancing on it as she looked out front. In the direction she was gazing, there were large windows poised over the console, affording a wide, large-encompassing view of the world before them. From his own position, Johnny could look out and see that they were still above the cloud line, and in the rapidly setting sun the fluffy white objects were turning into a sea of hues of red and orange while the sky above it faded to a light purple. April didn't look to this, but instead kept her eye on the instruments, which provided a far better view of what the actual world was doing around her. Johnny, however, smiled at the sight. No matter how many times he witnessed it, it never failed to leave him feeling a sense of breathtaking delight.

He broke this off after a moment, and walked forward to a separate console. Once he reached it, his hand went out and took a radio attached to it via a long, coiled wire.

"Octy? See anything out there?"

There was a momentary pause, but then a blip of static.

 _"_ _Not a thing, captain. Air is clear. Radar doesn't show anything for miles in all directions. Looks like all the air traffic is concentrated over the Schwarzwald."_

Johnny gave a nod. "Keep up the good work and make sure you keep an eye out for any IPF carriers." He replaced the radio on the console once again, and looked to April next. "How are we doing?"

"Just dropped speed to about 150 knots." April answered. "At our current speed, our ETA to the edge of the Schwarzwald is about fifty minutes."

"Glad to hear it." Johnny answered. "Think you can keep us clear of those IPF radar sweepers?"

April looked a bit nervous on hearing that. "Well…I'm not too sure about that one. If Novel keeps the jammers working and I fly us nice and low we should be able to pass underneath them, but the May Ship sticks out like a sore thumb. There's bound to be more aircraft flying over the area, and they'll spot us sooner or later."

"Right." Johnny answered. "Get us as close as you can then, April." After saying this, he walked up to a new console and halted in front of it, reaching over and throwing a switch as he did so. He immediately began to speak out afterward. "Novel, can you read me?"

 _"_ _Loud and clear, captain."_

"Good. Make sure our radar jammers are in full working order. Once that's done, I want you to tune the bridge in to whatever IPF satellite wavelengths you can pick up. If you can't do that, then get us in touch with the local authorities or some bounty hunter channel. I don't really care which, just so long as we have an ear tuning in on what's going on down there."

 _"_ _Aye-aye, captain."_

Johnny flicked the switch off after saying this, and turned back to those on the bridge, in particular May as she turned and looked to him. He gave an innocent shrug. "If we can't get in there to search for ourselves, we might as well get those guys to do it for us. Once they've found the Gear, we'll move in and head them off."

May nodded. The man in black inhaled afterward, and turned his head out to the window again. The sky had grown a bit darker, and the clouds were starting to dim. "It'll be dark soon. If we run with lights off, we'll be able to sneak in right under their noses. Then it'll just be a matter of finding a nice empty bit of countryside to hover over until we get a buzz." He turned to the first mate again. "We probably won't get anything for a while, May. The Schwarzwald is a lot of thick country to try and cover even for a large number of International Police Force officers. But stay alert. The second we get the word, we'll have to move in fast if we want to get this Gear before the IPF or the bounty hunters do. April will fly under the radars and swing us in as close as we can get without visually signaling any other aircraft. July, Augus, and Sephy will establish a perimeter after that, and the two of us will be going in."

May's eyes widened slightly. "…Just…the two of us, Johnny?"

Johnny paused momentarily, but then nodded. "Yes. Is that a problem?"

He saw the girl's face turn a shade of red, and she swallowed. However, she also shook her head furiously after that. "No…no, that's not a problem!"

"Alright then." He answered. He turned to the windows again afterward and gave them one more look, watching the clouds race by as the May Ship continued on its course to and through Germany. The sun continued to set, and things continued to slowly get darker. After a few moments, he finally turned back to May and smiled.

"Well, since we don't have anything to do for at least another forty-five minutes, how about we go on deck and spar?"

May hesitated, her face turned a bit uneasy. After a moment, she made her hands into fists and shifted them a bit. Her grip tightened on her anchor and loosened a few times, clearly a sign of anxiety. She bowed her head slightly.

"Um…sure…" She finally said. "…But can you go easy on me this time?"

Johnny merely smiled and let out a half snort. "You won't get any better that way, now will you?"

May responded by forming a frown and a pouting look on her face. She muttered something under her breath on doing so. Johnny snickered in response as he headed back for the bulkhead.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	6. Pure Poison

**"** **Pure Poison"**

* * *

The bar was not some place that one would go to after a game to knock back a few drinks with some friends. Nor was it a place that a laborer would go to get smashed after a hard day of work either. It wasn't even the sort of place that someone sinking in depression would head to in order to try and drown their sorrows, not caring where they ended up out of apathy. The atmosphere was totally wrong for that.

The place was dark and dim. The few lights that were burning were hanging from the ceiling, hooded, and tinted red. The result was that everything inside the bar had a reddish tint to it; giving the impression of being somewhere where there was a lot of fire or magma…like Hell. The walls were painted black and were void of any special decoration or ornamentation. The only distinctive marks that were on them were wear and tear from having been beaten against or torn or nicked over the years, and there were quite a few of those markings. A haze hung in the air, in particular over the numerous billiard tables that made up half of the sitting space. In a livelier place, this would be mistaken for cigarette smoke. But amid the dark and grim looking denizens of this glum little corner of the world, it was clear that such unsavory types did not indulge in just cigarettes, but frequently smoked things that were a bit "harder". Some of them were doing so right now. Others had syringes or the like and were doing far worse than that.

Every billiard table was taken up. One couldn't see who was playing on them that well, except in the rare moments when they passed into the light. Whenever they did, it revealed large, muscular, tattooed, pierced, and punk dressed figures. Each one of them was a person that no average man or woman would ever want to meet in broad daylight, let alone a dark alley. In the other part of the space around the bar, where there were booths and tables, the various dirty-looking people were engaging in all sorts of vices and immorality, both in terms of drugs as well as sexual in nature. Yet no one seemed to mind. After all, if you were here, you probably had you own vices you were guilty of and were probably there to hide yourself for a short time as a result.

The bar itself was dimly lit too, but it was done so by neons and blacklights, providing it with an unusual glowing scheme that illuminated bottles of liquor on the shelves in bizarre, almost sickening patterns. However, combined together, the bizarre sources of illumination combined to provide a dim yet complete spectrum, which enabled one to see everyone and everything that was going on at the bar, albeit barely. There were various patrons seated at it; probably the most "savory" types of people in the bar. They only came in to get drunk, not to cause any other trouble or to hide out.

Among them was a man in a pinstriped suit with a wide-brimmed hat. He was slumped over the top of the bar, but he wasn't yet plastered enough to be doing it out of drunkenness. A dull expression was on his face as he gazed out lazily at the liquor bottles arranged in front of him. One hand rubbed against his brow while the other one held onto a shot glass. It was freshly filled, but he wasn't partaking of it yet.

Abruptly, a shaft of dim light pierced the darkness of the bar deeper in its recesses. It was coming from the door, which had just popped open. It was night outside, so the light that passed inside wasn't dazzling but from a street lamp. A shadow passed over the threshold a moment later and entered the room. The door swung shut behind it a moment later, and all was darkness again. Nevertheless, a few figures did look up from their billiards or drinking or other acts of debauchery and turned their heads toward who had just entered.

He didn't become visible for a few moments. Only when he passed underneath one of the red lights did his form become clear. Some people simply turned away and went back to their business. Others formed nervous expressions and eased back into their chairs uncomfortably, trying to make themselves look smaller and more indiscrete. Finally, a certain group failed to resume what they were doing, and watched him as he strolled in.

The man wore a white coat that had the seams strapped back along his torso by black belts with golden buckles. The shoulders were puffed out, indicating padding that had been placed under them to enhance them. He had cuffs over his wrists that were also secured with black straps, and the hands underneath were black and white gloves, with the palm regions being white and the fingers being black. A thick black belt was around his middle, clasped by two gold hoops interlocked with one another. Around his hips and one leg was a white amount of fabric that clung close to him, all the way down the ankle. On his opposite leg and emerging from underneath the white fabric was black pants. Black boots topped off both of his legs. Balanced over one shoulder and resting in the crook of one of his arms was a long pool cue. It was silver along most of it, but blue near the bottom of the shaft. The end of it was topped with a black iron cast of a human skull, forming a cap on the end of the stick.

The man was rather muscular. His exposed chest clearly showed six-pack abs and tone and definition of all the individual muscles. He wasn't "hulking", but clearly wasn't someone to be trifled with either. As for his face, it was impossible to make out. He had grown his hair long and dyed it white, so that it splayed completely over his head as if it was a strange mop rather than hair. It was obviously thin enough in front that he could look out and see, because he moved smoothly enough along. However, with the way he moved so easily, one almost would think that it was due to a rather large item dyed straight onto his hair in light blue colors: a large, glaring eye with triangles above and below it.

The man passed through rather calmly, headed straight for the bar. As for the man in the pin-striped suit who was sitting there, he didn't seem to notice him or anything else. He was too preoccupied with his own thoughts or attempting to get drunk. He was just about the only one who hadn't noticed him enter aside from those who were either wasted or high.

On seeing the newcomer stop at the bar, the bartender, who was clearly in the camp of the nervous ones, swallowed a bit and shrank back slightly. However, he didn't run off, as if doing so would be like turning your back on a rattlesnake. The man himself stretched his leg out and prepared to sit down on the stool next to the pinstriped suit. Before he did so, he called out to the bartender.

"His tab is on me."

Pinstripe looked up dully at that, but didn't turn his head enough to see who it was. He shook his head and proceeded to down his drink. "Your loss, buddy. I'm getting hammered tonight. And if you've got something else on your mind, I might as well tell you right now that I don't swing that-"

The man sat down in the stool, and as he did he took the cue off of his shoulder and put it down on the bar with some force; making sure that the skull-capped end was aimed toward the man. Pinstripe saw this when it came down and immediately clammed up. He slowly swallowed and rotated his head slightly to look just to the side of his peripheral vision. He caught an image of the man calmly straightening out his legs and folding his hands in front of him. Pinstripe swallowed again soon afterward.

"Hello Venom…"

"Hello Ace." An unseen mouth answered from beneath the mop of hair.

"I…uh…didn't know you were back in town."

"Most people don't." He paused momentarily afterward, but then began to speak in a sharper tone. "Alright…let's cut the bull, shall we?"

Ace began to form beads of sweat on his brow. "Are you…here for me?"

"Well now… That all depends upon you."

"…Hey…we don't serve your kind here."

Venom paused only momentarily on hearing that. The voice had been rather gruff and deep that had spoken, full of challenge, and it had come from behind him near one of the billiard tables; in particular among the group that was staring at Venom after he entered and not looking away. However, he only paid attention to it for a moment before he focused on Ace.

"It was your boys that got chartered to drive the boat that night, from what I hear."

Ace blinked in response, and shook his head. "I…I don't know anything about them."

"You're not the first person who's told me that over the past few weeks. And I doubt you'll be the first to not spill his guts once I give you a bit more…convincing…"

The pinstriped man began to tremble. Sweat dripped from his forehead. "I swear I only know as much as everyone else know about it!" He half-whined in desperation. "It's not like they make calls in to me regularly or anything! I trusted them to do the job after they got contracted!"

"You hear me?" The voice boomed again. "I say we don't serve _queers_." The last word being emphasized with special darkness.

Venom hesitated again. Slowly, he rotated his bar stool out back toward the main establishment. It took him only a moment to spot the shadow of a rather large punker standing near a billiard table, holding his own cue at his side like it was a weapon. This one didn't have a shirt on, but was covered with tattoos and piercings. In particular, Venom noticed his head, which had a rather large iron ring put through his nose. His hair was in a "reverse Mohawk", with the middle cut out and the sides of his hair still remaining. Several other burly and tattooed figures were starting to rise up on either side of him. He could only see three in the darkness, but there were likely far more waiting in the shadows.

After a moment, he simply turned away and rotated his seat back to the bar.

"I'm not sure exactly what you're trying to tell me, Ace." Venom continued. "Are you trying to claim that Zato-1 just sliced up your boys for the fun of it?"

"Well…why not?" Ace stammered after a moment. "He was crazy! You know that more than anyone-"

Abruptly, Ace cut himself off. That was because, in a flash, Venom's hand had shot down, grabbed the end of his pool cue, and yanked it up to position the skull cap right underneath Ace's throat. He held it there and pressed in on his windpipe slightly.

"I suggest you watch your mouth, Ace. Especially when you're walking on extremely thin ice." A dangerous tone spoke from underneath the crop of hair. "Zato-1 didn't cut up anyone he contracted. The only explanation I see for why your boys were found looking like hamburger is that they were doing something they shouldn't have been up to. I want to know what. Now you better come clean with me right now if you want to ever eat solid food again after tonight's over. Did Rage hire you out? Or was it someone else like Slayer?"

"Nobody hired me out! I swear to God!" Ace protested in a desperate plea. "I tell you…I don't know what happened to my boys either! There wasn't any bounty or anything! That's the truth!"

Venom would have continued to intimidate the man but he was abruptly cut off from doing so. A meaty hand suddenly clamped on his shoulder and swung him around on the stool to face back into the bar. The cue was ripped out from underneath Ace's throat and taken to the side. Venom drew it back instinctively, but his own eyes turned and looked up to see who had done this.

A crowd of seven people, all of them punkers and strong looking, hovered over him. The huge fist of the lead one, the one who had called him out initially, pulled off of his shoulder and returned to his side. His other hand held his pool cue threateningly. Venom only had to glance around once to see that the others held similar weapons.

Taking the opportunity, Ace shot out of his seat and ran for it, tearing away for the door. Venom turned his head to watch him. He began to rise out of his seat to go after him when the big one put a hand on him and shoved him back down on the stool. Ace continued to run for it, and soon made it to the door. He immediately threw it open and burst out into the night. The man in the stool, unseen by any, tightened his jaw. His anger was aroused.

"This ain't the gay bar, freak." The big one snorted. "And your boss isn't boss anymore. We don't have to stand around getting sickened by the looks of you. You should have gotten out when I first told you to. Now…"

He brought the cue forward and snapped it over one knee. It broke unevenly, and as a result, he formed two long stakes. He held these in either hand menacingly.

"I think we're gonna make you a permanent addition."

Venom looked up at him momentarily, keeping his cue at the side of him. He raised up his hand and pointed to the shards in the big man's hands. "You know…those things don't work that well as weapons when you do that. It works a lot better like this."

Without another word or betrayed movement, Venom flicked out the end of his cue with the iron skull tip straight for the large man's family jewels. It impacted a moment later with a surprising crushing sound. Instantly, the large man's eyes went wide and his mouth snapped open, hanging in surprise and pain. Not stopping there, Venom twisted the cue so that it was stretched in front of him and rose to his feet. As he did, he swung the shaft of the cue out and caught the man under the bridge of his nose, smashing into it hard and sending his head flying up and backward. The rest of his body went with it, staggering back and allowing Venom to fully rise. Once he was up, the long-haired man brought the cue over his head with one arm and twirled it around in one hand, building up momentum, before swinging down and smashing the side of it into the big one's skull. The force was so powerful that it sent him flying to the ground.

The others around him paused momentarily at how quickly the larger man had been dropped. Venom used that distraction to quickly step forward with his cue crossed in front of him. He quickly jabbed his pole in either direction, driving either end into the opposite midsections of those on either side of him. Both of them, one after the other, doubled over in response, letting out rushes of air as the wind was knocked out of them. Once they were in that position, Venom swung to his left with the side of his cue and broadsided one against the face, sending him flying backward and crashing into his neighbor. He quickly brought the cue around to the other side, over his head, and then brought it down solidly on the skull of the opposite one, letting a resounding, echoing crack sound go out on impact. Immediately, the man crumpled into a heap.

His partner behind him quickly began to advance afterward, brandishing his weapon. In response, Venom choked down on his own cue and swung out and upward with it, catching the attacker's and knocking it into the air. Once exposed, he lashed out in a thrust, driving it against the man's foot with sufficient force to break his tarsals. The man froze, immobilized by the sudden pain that left him grounded in his spot. That gave Venom more than enough time to drive his cue forward into his gut next, doubling him over and setting his head up for his follow up move-a thrust to the skull that sent him reeling back and away.

Venom quickly yanked his cue back afterward as he spun around to his opposite side, where the one who had been stunned by having his friend fall against him was throwing the unconscious figure off and advancing. As he spun around, he put both hands on his cue and drew up one leg, forming a position of taking a billiard shot. A moment later, and he "tipped" his cue just as the man was advancing, driving the tip of the shaft into his throat. The attacker froze and grasped for his neck, gagging. Venom pulled his cue back and then drove it into the ground. Using it as a pole vault, he propelled himself forward toward the stunned attacker and lashed out with one foot to give him a solid kick under the chin, knocking his head back and sending him falling to the ground. Venom continued his path through the air and landed on him a moment later, driving both of his feet into the man's stomach.

Giving a yell, the next attacker advanced on his front. Venom straightened up and placed his cue at his side, regarding him calmly. Taking his own cue, the attacker arrived a moment later and swung it at his head. Using his skull-tipped one like a staff, Venom deflected it easily. He did so two more times as the attacker furiously swung at him again and again, not exerting much effort. For the fourth blow, however, he simply ducked, letting a cross swing sail over his head. When he shot back upright after the blow had passed, he began to twirl his cue in front of him in rapid circles once again. The attacker paused, watching him as he twirled it around and not knowing how to react. Venom continued to twirl a moment longer before he suddenly lashed out and smashed it into the side of the attacker's left knee. A snapping went out as his leg bent inward, and the attacker gave a cry of agony and faltered. That placed him good and level for Venom to swing his cue again and broadside him against the head. A moment later, and he was crashing against the bar before collapsing.

Venom pulled one leg up against the other in an odd pose as he spun around toward the last attacker. He once more put his hands on his cue in the billiard shot position, but while doing so he flicked his wrist twice. In response, two billiard balls, one after the other, rolled out of his sleeve and onto his cue. Keeping it perfectly balanced and straight, they continued to roll as he turned around to the last man behind him. This one, he noticed as he turned around, was pulling out a handgun. He raised it up and took aim…

But before he could fire, the man drew his shaft back and swung it forward, just as the first billiard ball reached the end of the cue. As a result, he smacked it when he brought the cue back, sending it sailing at his opponent and smacking against his hand holding the gun. The weapon was struck to one side and went toppling out of the attacker's grasp. He stood there dumbfounded for a moment, surprised that he was suddenly disarmed. As a result, he didn't present much in the way of resistance when Venom swung his cue forward again, striking the second billiard ball. This one was sent straight for his nose and smashed into it, breaking it. The attacker cried out and grasped his face in pain, blood leaking between his fingers.

Putting his foot back against the ground, Venom brought his cue back to his side as the last one continued to hold his face in agony. He walked forward, making sure to tread on each of his friends, and lashed out and seized him by the exposed throat. He shoved him to the side and against the bar. He held him there with his gloved hand around his neck, and the shocked attacker pulled his hands away from his nose, looking up at Venom in a mixture of surprise and fear, now that he was at his mercy. He held there for a few moments, nervously waiting for what would happen to him next. Venom, of course, betrayed no look, simply staring at him from beneath that crop of hair with that eye dyed onto it.

In the end, however, he casually flicked his head to one side and looked to the bartender. By now, that man was shrinking back considerably, pressing his body against the rows of liquor behind him lest he get caught up in the din that had been whipped up in front of him.

"I do believe this gentleman has agreed to pick up the tab for the man who just rudely stormed out." He simply stated.

Venom looked back to the fearful expression of the thug in front of him a moment later. He then smiled and gave out a chuckle. His hand pulled off of the punk's throat and gave him a light pat against the cheek. He let his hand slowly slide off him afterward as he slowly pulled back and away from the attacker; leaving him standing there, afraid to move and staring blankly at Venom with fear-filled eyes.

However, the man simply turned away from him and began to stroll out of the bar. He passed by the gun on the floor, and drove the skull cap of his cue down on top of it, smashing the barrel and rendering it useless. A few seconds later, and the door to the bar opened again. Leaving a pile of bodies, unconscious or otherwise, behind, Venom strolled back out into the night.

* * *

Orphans were a common feature of the Assassin's Guild. It made sense, really. You didn't go up to a respectable or even poverty-stricken family, take off your hat, give a bow, and then request if their young son or daughter would like to learn how to kill people for a living. And even if they did for some strange reason, those still didn't make the best assassins. You wanted people who had no identity. No family or friends outside of the guild. No registration anywhere. No ties that could be exploited. No past that could be used to identify them. And it made little difference to the orphan if you got them at an early enough age. What else were they going to do with their lives? Starve? Steal? The Crusades had left thousands of orphans all over the face of the Earth. There weren't enough special institutions or orphanages for them all. It was inevitable that some of them would be picked up by rather unfavorable organizations looking for new members with potential.

Venom had been born English, or in what small territory was left of England. The main country was a loss, but there were still numerous holdings that the British state had moved out into in order to maintain its status as a country. Part of that had been the Normandy region in France, which had been claimed again by the English following the onset of the Crusades and the need to relocate the capitol. In that meager strip of land in Europe, there was nevertheless a considerable amount of countryside. And over the years of war, immigration, and emigration, there had been a small town that had emerged as a result. It didn't have a proper name anymore, because the Assassin's Guild had moved in on it. It was one of the few towns in the world that could be considered firmly under their control, and it was filled with people who normally didn't wish to be found as well as those who engaged in illegal activities. As it had formed in a time when there was little law and order in the world, it had been allowed to be completely consumed by the criminal element of the world. Now, in modern days, it was too far gone to be stopped. If the IPF ever attempted to break in to "cleanse" the place, a bloodbath would break out and the IPF knew full well that more of them would die at the hands of trained assassins than vice versa. As a result, they tried to simply "look the other way". It had been in this community that Venom had the distinction of starting life.

He imagined that he had gone through the channels like most other assassins. After spending most of his early life on the street eating out of garbage cans and getting into fights with older kids over what few meager possessions he owned, he had been taken in by the guild when a member noticed that he managed to shatter the kneecap of a boy twice his size. Even at a young age, he was tougher than most children that were older than him. He also seemed to be more lithe and flexible; able to get around the bigger ones with greater ease and to use his speed to a far greater advantage. These were talents that were picked up upon by the members of the Assassin's Guild early, helping give him marks of distinction when he entered their fold.

Like most young assassins, he was paired with an older one for his apprenticeship and journeyman stage. He got stuck with an older one named Deez, as he could remember. He couldn't say too much about him. He wasn't too hard and he wasn't too easy. There was an equal share of nights where the two would go to bed pleasantly chatting and nights where Venom couldn't sleep due to the amount of bruising and beating that he had gotten from the old man. However, he learned quickly. He was one of the better students that Deez had taken under his wing, or that had been seen in the guild itself. His natural abilities had a lot to do with that. He possessed a grace and fluidity to his movements that was above and beyond those of all others, giving his own fighting style an air of motion and "poeticism" to it.

He developed his own style early on in his teenage years, when he first took up the game of billiards after training sessions. He found out that he had a gift for the game. He seemed to always be able to calculate the geometry of every strike and know just the right amount of power to put into each tap. He became so good at it that he got a little cocky, beginning to get flashy with the cue. He remembered that he started twirling it around one day in between hits. A month later, he was beginning to do tricks with it. However, what really stuck in his mind was the day he played a fellow assassin-in-training for twenty pounds a ball. He won that game fair and square but his opponent didn't see things that way. Before he knew it, he had a knife pulled on him and he was on the defensive. All he had in his own hand was the pool cue and so he used it. In less than ten seconds, he had beaten his opponent six times and had left him a bleeding mess on the ground. From that day on, he realized what his weapon of choice would be.

He was praised rather highly when he came of age and "graduated", with Deez saying that he had the makings of a great assassin in him. With his speed and agility, as well as his unusual choice of weapons, it was said that he'd have no problem quickly ascending the ranks of the guild. It was further confirmed that his unnatural skill and agility was due to the fact that he was a class C magic, which automatically put him in the higher bracket of jobs available to guild members. Everything seemed to be going great for him.

Which was probably what made it so surprising with where he ended up only a few months later.

Venom botched his first assignment. To his surprise, after all his training and torture, he found he couldn't bring himself to kill the target. He screwed up his second assignment too. He managed to actually attack this one, but he found out soon after that he didn't finish the job. The mark lived. It wasn't until his third job that he actually managed to succeed, but the mark was done sloppy. Too sloppy for a member of the Assassin's Guild. His superiors were easy with him on the first mark, but they chastised him rather harshly for the following ones. They said he was ruining the reputation of the guild and endangering them as a business. He was becoming a liability…and liabilities had no place in the Assassin's Guild.

He received more jobs after that and he had successes, but they weren't consistent. Every once in a while, he'd screw up. It took him a while to realize why he was doing it, but he finally realized it one night after failing another job. His heart wasn't in it. It never had been. A lot of guild members were downright sadistic and demented, and killing came easily to them. But it didn't to him. Even when the mark was a total scumbag he found himself hesitating before each strike. As a result, the jobs weren't being done clean if they were being done at all. His superiors continued to watch this and they continued to keep count of how many mistakes he was making. A running tally was being made against him, and it was all in the negative.

Yet there was something else that also put off members of the guild. That was because Venom was beginning to act out his impulses on fellow assassins…in the romantic sense. And to everyone's surprise, including Venom's, he found out that he wasn't hitting on the ladies. It wasn't long before male members spread themselves away from him as much as they could. Some of them greeted him with insults or slurs. Other ones greeted him with punches in the face. The bottom line, however, was that he built more animosity with the Assassin's Guild. Coupled with his bad track record, he was heading for trouble.

Somehow, he must have still had some friends in the guild because he got the word before it was official. One day, a fellow member came up to him and gave him the bad news. He was too much of a liability, and he was going to be excised. They were calling him up to the city hall in two days. When he got there, he was going to satisfy his last purpose in the guild as serving as an example to younger members of what happened to assassins who didn't measure up.

Venom didn't know what to do. Running was useless. There were assassins all over the world. They'd find him. Begging for mercy wouldn't help. That would just make them kill him slower. He ended up spending all the time in his room, brooding over his coming fate as the hours ticked by over the next two days. He wondered what he could do to stop it, and came up with nothing. In the end, he realized all he could do was face it like a man. And so, taking his cue with him, he headed for the city hall at the appointed time. In his mind, he reached the decision that he wasn't going to go like a lamb to the slaughter. He was going to fight back. He might not have been good at killing, but defending himself was something else. Maybe if he could take a few of them with him, they'd see his quality and spare his life… He arrived at the hall and came before the leader, expecting to see a familiar face who would summarily order a dozen assassins to rip him limb from limb.

Instead he saw someone different.

While he had been sequestered in his room, Venom had failed to get the news. A shift in leadership had occurred in the two days. There was new management of the Assassin's Guild; someone much younger who was up and coming through the ranks. He had some sort of spectacular new power that enabled him to kill in ways thought unimaginable-using his own shadow as a weapon.

The new leader gazed down at him through a black visor when he entered and seemed to size him up, assessing his odd gear and fashion sense. But after a minute or so, he simply smiled at him. He acknowledged that he had screwed up in the past, but he said he loved his style. He said he had surveyed some of his work, and the marks that he had done right he thought were "beautiful". Rather than order his death, the new head of the Assassin's Guild gave him a promotion-wanting him to do his personal high-level jobs.

Venom was overwhelmed. Where before he had thought death was certain and that his life would be over, he suddenly found himself delivered from the jaws of oblivion by this new leader. He even found himself praised for the first time since he had graduated into full guild service. More than that, however, he found himself in the inner circle of this new leader…one who was young, handsome, and well-toned. From that day on, Venom found a new reason in his life for existence and a new person who he was utterly and completely devoted to.

His new boss, Zato-1.

Killing came cleaner and easier after that. To Venom's surprise, he could do anything his leader wished of him. If Zato-1 would have told him to skin a busload of children alive, he would have done so without blinking. As a result, he went from being the black sheep of the Assassin's Guild to one of its greatest members. Within less than a year, he was promoted again; this time to being Zato-1's right hand man and, for many intensive purposes, the second most powerful person within the Assassin's Guild. His name was no longer used in jesting or joking but was spoken of in fear. His acclaim spread throughout the guild and throughout the world. But most importantly to Venom, he was always close to Zato-1. For a few years, everything was perfect.

Yet it didn't last.

As Zato-1's closest minion, Venom learned all about "Eddie"…and about Zato-1's infatuation/grudge against the assassin known as Millia Rage. Just as Zato-1 had used a forbidden magic in order to bond a living shadow to his being, Rage had used a forbidden magic to turn her hair into a living weapon, making her quite possibly the deadliest woman alive. Venom had never encountered her before, but he didn't need to. His boss hated her; that meant he hated her. He offered on multiple occasions to be the one to conduct a strike on her. He didn't care about her hair, despite all that he had heard about it. He'd gladly face someone like that if it meant a chance to do his boss a favor. However, Zato-1 kept him at bay, telling him to bide his time, that he'd deal with it personally eventually.

As a result, when Zato-1 did eventually go out to take care of the matter himself, Venom got the bad news. His boss had ended up sealed in a dimensional prison as a result: a trap set up by Rage. From that day on, Venom vowed to get revenge against her. She became his mortal enemy. He swore an oath that he wouldn't rest until he had made her spill every drop of blood in her body.

For two years he tried to track her down. He directed countless assassins to go after her, but what he really wanted more than anything was to do the job himself. Yet he never received the opportunity. With Zato-1 gone, he was left to try and direct most of the affairs of the organization. And that was a titanic job in and of itself. Everyone wanted a piece of the Assassin's Guild in the wake of the power vacuum. There was clan warfare within the group to try and determine who would be the next leader, and Venom soon found that only a fraction of them would remain loyal to him. And the IPF began to move in as well, using the opportunity to crack down on the whole business. As a result, his attention was considerably torn. He struggled to keep enough people loyal to Zato-1's concepts while looking out for Rage. Whenever he did find her, he'd always be busy with something else or on the other side of the planet and he'd have to send some lower assassin in to do the job that he wished desperately to do himself. As a result, the assassin would always end up dead, and Rage would vanish again for months on end. These were the darkest times in Venom's life; far darker than the days he spent wondering if he was going to be executed due to poor performance from one sundown to the next.

But just a few months ago things had changed. A massive bloodbath had broken out within the Asian sector of the guild, claiming the lives of no less than two dozen assassins (a third of which Venom had to have disposed of himself). The parties involved had gotten too careless and they alerted the police to when the war would break out. As a result, after they were done beating each other's heads in, the IPF had broken in on them and got the drop on them. Venom had still managed to kill a half dozen officers but he had been too weary and weak from fighting off a hoard of trained assassins. They had managed to take him along with several other survivors, half of whom died of injuries not long after, and found himself being herded off to a superprison. While awaiting a trial that would likely end in his execution, a message was passed to him one day in prison that bore the surprising good news. Zato-1 was back. Eddie had somehow freed him from the dimensional prison, and he was moving back into power.

The news was so great that Venom would have gone off to the gas chamber a happy man, satisfied in knowing that his leader was alive and well. However, he received another bonus in addition to that. The prison was abruptly breached by the host of a tournament in London, who was trying to get the world's attention. During the attack, all of the alarm systems were shut down, the security locks released, and the guards disabled. There was nothing for Venom and several others to do except calmly walk out of prison and vanish into the countryside. The man didn't question it and he didn't care. All that he cared about was that freedom meant he would have the chance to be next to Zato-1 again. Unable to contain his impatience, he made a phone call to him one night while he was still hiding in the back country of Asia. He didn't care that he risked getting picked up by the International Police Force in doing so. He had to talk to him, however briefly. Just hearing his voice again on the phone filled him with a sense of relief. Two weeks later, he managed to arrive back in Europe at last and returned to the main branch of the Assassin's Guild, fully expecting to see Zato-1 there and greet him.

Instead he had found the place had already been abandoned and Zato-1 had vanished once again.

It took him another two weeks to get the whole story, which he managed to scrape together by running around town, making about a thousand phone calls, and shaking down people who weren't willing to talk so easily. Zato-1 had come back, and he had immediately set to work going after Rage again. He got the word out that he was heading over to participate in the tournament that was being held in London. The same one that had been all over the news world-wide, announcing the return of the Gears and the granting of a "wish" or something. Its true purpose had been irrelevant. Zato-1 had joined it with the sole purpose of making himself a target for Millia Rage and in doing so to draw her out and kill her. After he got the word out, he contracted a crew of assassins to man his private boat and headed for London. After that the story became fuzzy.

There was a rumor in the IPF that Zato-1 had been killed by one of the officers there but they had never recovered a body to prove it. Through quite a bit of research and digging, Venom was able to find out that a radio transmission had been sent back to shore a few days after Zato-1's departure, saying that they had picked him up, heavily injured, and were bringing him back to shore. However, if that was the case, it never panned out. The boat did eventually reach shore, but it was more than a hundred miles off course and it crashed when it did so. When Venom sent his own boys in to investigate it, he found the crew had been mutilated. There was no sign of Zato-1 himself anywhere on board. Based on the pictures of what he had seen, Venom knew only one thing could have left those assassins in the shape in which they were found.

Eddie.

That pretty much brought Venom up to his current position. Since then, he had spread the word throughout the guild for everyone who was still loyal to Zato-1 to keep an eye out for him. But that had just been a shot in the dark, practically. The truth was he still had next to no idea of what had gone on in London or what state his leader was in at the moment. He knew the rumors about Eddie; about how it had its own consciousness, about how it seemed to sometimes take over for Zato-1 and do things of its own accord, and, last but not least, about how there was the chance that it could one day take over completely. If the last part was true…then there was a chance that those guys on board the ship hadn't been massacred because of Rage or the IPF or anyone else. There was a chance that Ace had been telling the truth. There was the chance that Eddie had taken over…

But even if that was the case, that didn't change the simple fact for Venom. Zato-1 had been imprisoned because of Rage. It was because of her that he went on the trip. It was probably her that had messed him up to put him in as bad a shape as he was. Who knows? Perhaps it was she who weakened him to the point where Eddie could have taken over. To him, everything went back to Rage. She was the cause of all of this trouble and misery that Venom had to endure. In his eyes she was the guilty one here. She was the one who still had to pay for her crimes. She was the one who had yet to have her blood spilled…to feel true suffering…

The thought made Venom tighten his grip on his pool cue; imagining smashing the shaft of it through Rage's pretty little skull. He inhaled sharply as he leaned back further in his seat. He was in Zato-1's own car at the moment, being driven around by his personal driver down the streets of the Assassin's Guild-controlled city. It was still night, and he didn't bother trying to track down Ace following their encounter. He saw the fear in the man's eyes and he realized that beating him half to death would accomplish nothing. And so, he had returned to the vehicle and told the driver to head for home. It didn't matter that he was using it. He had for months, ever since Zato-1's initial disappearance, and he made sure to keep paying the man to keep up his job. Everyone in the guild knew that what was Zato-1's was Venom's. And most of them weren't as stupid as those punks in the bar had been to try and do something about it. However, Venom had to admit…he didn't have the staying power of his boss. He couldn't hold things together. Zato-1's return appearance had been so brief that there hadn't been time to even establish the fact that he was still alive in most circles of the guild. As a result, the group was still broken apart and far from unified. And his control was slipping a bit more every day.

Abruptly, he heard a ringing from nearby. His head snapped to the source, seeing his cellular reclining on the seat nearby. He quickly reached out and snatched it up, flipping it open and putting it against his head.

"Venom here. What is it?" He asked with a tense anticipation in his voice. He had passed out his private number to numerous guild members when he sent them out looking for signs of Zato-1. Since then, he had been hanging on his phone at every passing minute, hoping for a call presenting something.

A deep voice with a thick Eastern European accent answered. _"Ah…Mr. Venom. I've been wanting to get ahold of you for some time now."_

Venom's enthusiasm evaporated. In its place anger began to grow. He knew that voice…

"…I've got nothing to say to you." He coldly retorted.

 _"_ _Hardly very mannerly of you. I have some business I need to discuss."_

"We don't have anything to discuss."

 _"_ _Listen…I know you feel bad about your boss, but this has gone on long enough. The guild is totally coming apart at the seams. Something has to be done soon or the International Police Force is going to pounce upon us while we're at our weakest and inflict a very severe slaughter."_

"That's up to Zato-1. _He's_ the head of the Assassin's Guild. Not you."

 _"…_ _All of you younger folks seem to forget your history._ I _founded the Assassin's Guild, Mr. Venom. And I'm not about to stand around and watch it go down in flames due to arrogant youth. I made this call as a favor to you. I wanted to 'cut you in on the action', so to speak. But if you go on denying the plain and simple truth about what is going on, I'll leave you standing in the cold. And in that case, this won't be a business discussion; it will be a notification. The Eastern European branch and the Asian branch have already consented to my retaking control of the organization. I'm in discussion with the branch in the Americas right now. Pretty soon, you aren't going to have the clout to bring anything to the bargaining table."_

Venom fumed in anger. His hand tightened on the phone. "If you try to make a move without my saying so, you're going to have a war on your hands. Consider _that_ a warning."

 _"_ _Please."_ The voice answered in a dismissive snort. _"Who do you think the local leaders are going to side with? Me…or someone who's been dead for two years? I'm not going to allow myself to be stymied by you or any other one in your so-called 'generation'. I'll give you until December to think it over. After that, I'm moving in. And if you're still 'in the house', then I'll just have to throw you out."_

Venom didn't wait to see if the voice on the other end hung up first. He slammed his phone shut afterward, and practically threw the item down onto the floor. He leaned back in his seat again, propping up his chin on one arm while balancing his elbow against the seat cushion. He continued to fume and brood afterward. The truth of the matter was that he knew the man on the other end was right. The guild was falling apart. It was becoming a better target for the IPF all the time. Soon even the city wasn't going to be safe if the individual clans started to break up. Without Zato-1, the Assassin's Guild was fast becoming a non-entity. It needed leadership, and currently most of the figures that were around weren't offering it. The only other person than Zato-1 who could possibly run it was who had been on the other end of that phone line, but once he was in power it was a sure thing that even if Zato-1 came back there wasn't going to be any reestablishment of his old position.

Venom tightened his hand into a fist and cracked his knuckles. It was all Rage's fault. She had done this…

Even as he was still brooding, the phone went off again. The man turned to it and glared at it on the floor of the car momentarily. He thought it might be the man on the line calling back. Even if it wasn't, he was too mad at the moment to really talk to anyone else. It continued to ring, however…and did so twice…three times…four times…five times… By the eighth time, Venom began to realize that they weren't going to hang up. And so, with a half-sneer, he reached down and plucked it off the ground. He flicked it open again and put it to his head.

"Venom here. What do you want?"

 _"_ _Venom…"_ An eager voice said on the other side. _"We spotted him."_

The assassin's eyes went wide. The previous man on the line was totally forgotten in an instant. Instead, Venom felt his heart begin to race as a sense of joy suddenly pervaded him. He immediately leaned forward and lowered his head inward, focusing more on who was on the phone.

"…You've seen Zato-1?"

 _"_ _Ain't nobody else goes around with their shadow wrapped around them, making them look like a bat out of Hell, as far as I know."_ The voice confidently replied.

"Where are you?" His anticipation and enthusiasm was growing. "Where did you see him?"

 _"_ _We're in Germany. We were checking out that area the IPF has cornered off…the place where that new active Gear is supposed to be. We figured since there was a bounty we might see if the Assassin's Guild should get in on it. We were driving around the perimeter when we just saw him soar over us. He went straight into the forest that they have blockaded. We could barely believe it. I mean…he just popped in right out of the blue. But it was him. We got a good enough look at him to know that it was his shadow that was doing it. I'd stake my life on it."_

Venom hesitated, taking all of the information in. So…the rumors could have been right after all. He knew Zato-1. He could envelop himself in Eddie for emergency situations, but it wasn't something he did for sustained periods of time. If this was really him like they were claiming, and he was still around and active, then he should have made a call into them. He should have gotten in touch with his fellow assassins or the local branch office. The fact that he didn't…and the fact that he had appeared with Eddie surrounding him and appearing to actually fly into a new location…didn't sit well with Venom. It made him think of the possibility that he could have lost himself to that thing. It would explain a lot, after all, like why he hadn't contacted them in months…

At any rate, he knew the news reports. He knew about this new active Gear; how it had been found in the Schwarzwald region of Germany. Venom wasn't familiar with the place, but he knew enough German to know it meant "Black Forest". It was probably more than a decent enough place for someone to hide in who didn't want to be found, or even a good place to hide even if you _did_ want to be found. By now, the IPF had to be combing it with hundreds of officers for the Gear. Now, Venom realized that he would have to comb it himself. And that would take practically every assassin in Germany, France, and England to mount an effective search. Even then, they might never find him. It was a lot of ground to cover, after all. Still, what else was he going to do?

Yet another thought came to mind as he considered this…

 _So long as we're going to be spending all that time and energy looking for Zato-1…why not kill two birds with one stone?_

With that in mind, he spoke back into the phone.

"What's your name?"

 _"_ _Hagar."_

"Good work, Hagar. I want you to get back to the regional hall. Round up every last guild member you can find and tell them to gather there and wait for my arrival. I'm taking the next plane for Berlin. But there's something very important I need you to do as well."

 _"_ _What?"_

"Get the word out on the street. Use whatever means you can, but get it out and make it as public as possible: Zato-1 is alive and in the Schwarzwald. I want it to practically be on the front page of every newspaper in that entire country. You understand?"

 _"_ _Will do, Venom."_

"Good."

The assassin closed up his phone afterward. This time, he calmly set it back on the seat next to him. He began to twist his cue around in the car so that he could stretch out with the skull portion of it.

Zato-1 had set up his traps; it was time for Venom to set one of his own. Rage was out there somewhere, and if she hadn't finished the job on Zato-1 then she was definitely looking for a chance to do so. Well, he'd give her that chance. He'd make sure that she knew where he was, and would make sure that she would come running. And when she did, she'd find a greeting waiting there for her: in the form of dozens of assassins from the guild as well as Venom himself. The woman was strong, but even she couldn't take them all by herself. And once they dropped her, Venom would make her answer for every last bit of suffering that she had caused him and Zato-1 alike. She may have survived Eddie, but he'd make sure she'd wish she had been torn to shreds by it before he was done with her.

Venom proceeded to tap against the back of the driver's seat with the skull portion of the cue. The driver, in turn, rotated his head slightly behind him.

"Take me to the airport."

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	7. Red and Black

**"** **Red and Black"**

* * *

Chipp Zanuff gazed over the counter at the ticket booth, looking past the smiling, perpetually cheery clerk at the desk, and all the way to the wall behind her. Stretched over it was a list of sliding numbers and letters, indicating the various destinations that were available for transport as well as the prices that were associated with each one. He scanned over it for a few moments before he came to the one he desired. From his current location, he wasn't too far. Only about three hundred miles or so. He expected a fairly cheap price. He quickly ran a total on it, though, and immediately felt his expectations shot down.

Ruefully, the ninja turned his head down to his black jacket. Keeping one arm rigid, he moved his right one over and dipped his hand into his coat pocket. He fished around for a few moments, grabbing whatever bills and coins he could manage. After doing so, he sighed, turning his head from side to side and looking around for a good spot. He walked over to an unmanned counter to the left, stepping around the line of people waiting to talk to the clerk and get their own tickets, and dumped the contents of his hand onto the flat surface. His finger quickly moved about it, counting up the various dollars and cents.

He frowned. It wasn't enough. With a sigh, he shoved the wad of cash back into his pocket, and looked over to the counter again. He supposed that he could get a ticket to take him as close as possible to the place and then walk from there… But if he did that, then he'd be broke. And frankly, little amount that the money was, it was all that he had. If he was going to carry out his latest little personal mission then he had to save some cash for food. He was going to have to find a way to make some more money again very soon; find some sort of small job to work at until he could raise some more cash. But that was going to have to wait for now. It had already been several days since the announcement. By now, the police and other parties had to be closing in. He'd have to hurry if he was going to get in on the action before things were over and done with.

He turned away from the ticket booth counter and headed for the exit. He better hit the road. He'd have to find a store along the way to buy from now.

Chipp had undergone a rather rough time over the past few months. Being busted by the International Police Force didn't exactly do a whole lot for his life following the incident in old England. He ended up pretty lucky in that situation. They thought he was too beaten up to put up much of a fight when the opportunity to escape arose. (In actuality, he was pretty close to being in that state, but the body could do incredible things when one had trained it hard enough or was desperate enough…or perhaps a combination of both.) He managed to undo his handcuffs while they hauled him off to the coastline, meaning to transport him to a jail cell on the mainland and begin questioning of him. After that, it was just a matter of waiting for them to open the door. With his skill, he managed to disable the guards after that and break free of the transport, running back into the wilderness of overgrown England. As soon as he was in the tree line, he as good as disappeared to them. It was child's play to meld in with the shadows and vanish for a trained ninja.

The following days were a bit rougher. He found himself roaming the forest, stricken with severe injuries and broken bones, struggling to find food and water while looking for a method to escape. He had stupidly chartered only a one way boat to the island, but even if he hadn't the boat would have long since been busted by the swarming IPF. Yet eventually the opportunity presented itself to commandeer another four-man patrol boat that was near the shore. Moving in darkness after it had docked one night, Chipp knocked out all four men, stole the craft, and headed back for the French coast.

That was foolishness on his part, he soon realized. The IPF was swarming once he got there, and they had already radioed in about the stolen ship. He ended up having to tax his body to the limit once again to break through a half dozen guards before he was able to get far enough into the city to vanish. It was considerably harder than using a forest, but in the end he managed. Once he was clear, it was a matter of limping/hitchhiking far enough away from police activity to seek some medical attention.

Since then, Chipp had to keep an eye out. They had never successfully identified him, fortunately. Otherwise they might have dragged up his old record and found out that he had a past as a drug dealer. They did have composite images from witnesses, unfortunately, but at least there was no DNA, energy signatures, or fingerprints to tack onto it. He wasn't a most wanted fugitive, and so he could afford to show his face in the more backwood and suburban parts of the world with reasonable safety. But he had to watch it around major cities. He figured that things would die down given enough time. After all, it wasn't like he was one of these Assassin's Guild members or some other hardened criminal. He had attacked a few officers, sure, but that was all they could pin on him without knowing more of his past.

He had realized he had been too sloppy when he finally had a chance to relax. He hadn't proceeded as a true ninja would have. He should have practiced more techniques of seclusion and secrecy, sticking to the shadows and not making himself such an open target. However, he was determined not to dwell on that. He'd do better next time. For now, unfortunately, he would have to put his quest for justice regarding Tsuyoshi on hold. The heat was too much on him. He needed to lay low, take another small job and get by, until his name had faded a bit more from memory and he could get a better lead going on. Following that tournament end, he had been left with next to nothing, after all.

Sitting around, however, left him time to brood and think. He had continued to digest what that one fighter had said to him…and despite his confidence that his cause was just and right he couldn't shake it out of his mind. It kept coming to him time and time again. And the thought made him continue to hesitate, continue to think over what he had been doing, and if what he was doing was in fact the best way to proceed. As the weeks continued to pass, Chipp found himself no closer to carrying out his vengeance for Tsuyoshi, but neither could he shake the words of that man out of his head…

He was still in that confused state when he heard the news report, same as everyone else on Earth.

That report truly got him thinking.

He found himself brooding over that fact right now as he walked down the road headed east. He still wore his black jacket, concealing the blade that he had strapped to one of his wrists. Over one shoulder was slung a bag holding what few meager possessions he had with him: namely, five packets of ramen, three bottles of water, a miniature cooking pot to make the noodles in, and a bedroll. It had cost him the last of his savings in order to get just that. He couldn't say he cared for the taste that much either. Europe seemed to currently have a lesser grasp for Asian cuisine than the States had, but it was cheap and it was basic. Other than that, all that he owned was the clothes on his back. He knew full well he had better try not to eat too much of what he possessed.

He had to save it for when he got to the Schwarzwald.

A low droning sound began to come up from behind the ninja. Chipp recognized it as an incoming car. He quickly turned around while continuing to walk and stuck his thumb out. However, moments later, he stuck it back in and turned and kept walking-hoping that the owners of the vehicle hadn't seen him. He recognized from a distance that it was a police vehicle; in particular, a large truck that was no doubt carrying at least a dozen IPF operatives. He continued to try and remain small and indiscrete as he walked along. The car continued to approach and Chipp couldn't tell from the sound whether they were slowing down or continuing to come. His fears were allayed a moment later. With a rush of air whipping up from the slipstream, the truck shot by Chipp and continued on down the road.

Chipp sighed in relief. There were too many of those IPF officers around and he noticed that they were only increasing in intensity and number the closer he got to the Schwarzwald. By now, they had to have a practical army of them assembled there. It made him nervous. He considered again what he was doing-jumping into the proverbial lion's den. He may not have been a major criminal, but he had to still be wanted. He was risking getting captured or, at the very least, racking up more assault charges by going here. Was it really worth it?

 _…_ _Was_ I _really worth it?_

With that thought in mind, Chipp continued to walk down the road.

As it turned out, he didn't go much farther before he heard the sound of another vehicle beginning to come up behind him. He turned his head to this one first this time. He was relieved at what he saw. It was a regular commercial truck. Once again, he stuck out his thumb, and this time he stayed focused on the vehicle as it approached.

He soon felt a sense of greater relief as the vehicle slowed while approaching. It began to swing to one side of the road, and Chipp obliged it by moving off to the edge of the ditch. A few moments later, and the truck came to a stop with the driver's side cab right next to the ninja. The driver, a rather large man in overalls, looking unshaven but other than that having a friendly face, looked down on him.

"Need a ride?" He asked in French.

Chipp nodded. "How far east are you headed on this road?" He asked in his own broken French. He might not have been too familiar with languages, but he knew enough to get by in at least a few European countries. Unfortunately, he didn't speak a word of German. He'd just have to deal with that when the time came.

The driver indicated in the distance. "Just over the German border. I'm glad for it too. I don't want to head anywhere near Berlin right now, what with all the bounty hunters and assassins showing up and the IPF practically assuming martial law."

"Sounds great." Chipp answered in response to the first part. He quickly moved up and around to the side of the car. The driver leaned over and popped open the door for him. Moments later, the young man was climbing into the passenger seat and was pulling the truck door shut behind him. The truck gave a hiss of steam and began to lurch forward again, moving on down the road toward Germany.

* * *

 _Damn…I didn't think it would be_ this _bad…_

Chipp had ended up getting two more rides after running into the friendly driver in France. After walking a distance of about thirty miles after being dropped off at the German border, he found a food supply truck afterward that was willing to give him a lift to Berlin. Once he arrived, he soon noticed a change in the weather regarding transportation. Just as the French truck driver had told him, the city was overstuffed with IPF officers. They were everywhere, and they were regulating just about everything that went in and out of the town. They had clearly guessed, and guessed correctly, that the airport in Berlin would serve as a gathering area for everyone looking to get a piece of that 500,000 world dollar bounty. As a result, the town was being flooded with all sorts of strange types, each one armed to the teeth and itching to get their hands on the Gear. Yet despite the fact that nations around the world had agreed to establish that bounty, they were struggling to keep it a police situation. To that end, every truck, bus, cab, and other form of mass transportation that went any farther east was being shut down. In terms of the mainstream world, it was impossible to go any further.

Luckily, Chipp was more than familiar with things that weren't mainstream.

He had been to Berlin before when he was still a drug dealer, and he knew how to get "underground". He didn't dare try and contact any old connections he might have; assuming they would even give him the time of day if he tried. But he was able to find his way into certain corners that were currently making a bundle off of ferrying various interested parties to Hildebrant, the town where this had all started. He was totally broke of course and the price that they were asking was twice what a ticket to Berlin would have been at the train station that he had left a day ago. Yet it was a small matter for a ninja to be able to sneak on board one of these transports and hitch a ride deeper into Germany and to the edge of the Schwarzwald.

However, he was a little offset by what awaited him when he finally got to the village.

Chipp was standing in the only tavern in town at the moment. "Standing" was more than appropriate, because there was definitely no sitting room left in it, and very little in terms of space that one could stand in either. The place was jam packed with every form of bounty hunter, assassin, fortune and thrill seeker, criminal, and mercenary that you could think of. All of them were in assorted shapes and sizes. They wore different styles of clothing and makeup he had never seen before. Their various assortments of weapons were piled up across from them in heaps, many of them looking odd and unconventional as well as having a considerable faction being normal swords and guns. The place was crowded and noisy beyond belief, with various groups of hunters arguing among themselves or discussing their plans, big ones getting into fights with little ones, and people getting rowdy. At this point, if you wanted to get drunk, you brought your own beer. The place had already been drained dry by the sheer multitude of people who had arrived. The only thing they were serving was water. And this was just within the tavern, which was being used as a meeting hall and gathering space for various groups of hunters. The streets were filled with even more. There was no inn in that town, and so people were just throwing down anywhere in the roads. No one moved into the forest yet to camp. Some of it was due to the fact that the IPF were there as well and were blockading anyone else from entering the forest.

Some of it was due to the fact that this Gear had already killed a group of forty with apparently no effort, so being out there by yourself was hardly safe.

The ninja sighed as he looked at all of them; wondering how he was supposed to get through them even if the IPF did open the borders to the forest for bounty hunters. He had a feeling he could take more than half of the people in the room (at least, in one-on-one fights) but he didn't know what he could do against the sheer volume of them. Besides, he was just one person. He could only search with one set of eyes. Some of these people were in groups of twenty. The IPF numbered in the hundreds. They could search far more effectively than he could. With a tired look, he raised one of his bottles of water to his lips and began to take a sip. At least he could get a refill…

That was when he saw him.

He didn't know when he had wandered into the tavern or why he hadn't seen him, but the crowd of people likely had something to do with it. At any rate he saw him now. He didn't look the slightest bit different from when he had spotted him last. The same black shirt with the half-vest stretched over it…the same white pants…that heavy headband across his brow…and that rectangular sword slung across his back…the weapon that he never even bothered drawing the last time he and Chipp had met…

The bounty hunter from England.

Chipp froze, letting his water dribble down over his chin and forgetting about it almost completely. He watched the man instead, seeing him easily wade through the crowds of people as if they weren't even there. He reached the bar and called the hostess over to him a moment later, making a request soon afterward. The hostess herself seemed to be taken aback by his sheer presence. Even she could detect the aura coming off of this man-the same sense that Chipp had noticed when he had fought him. Yet after a pause, she went about her work. She filled a glass with water and set it in front of him. After that, the bounty hunter took up the cup and began to drink slowly. He seemed totally oblivious to everyone else in the chamber, immune to all of their carousing and noise.

The ninja hesitated for a few moments longer, but then pulled the bottle away from his mouth and wiped at his chin. He quickly capped it without looking and slid it into one of his jacket pockets. He drew himself up slightly and began to walk over to the figure standing at the bar. He found it much harder to do than the bounty hunter had. Unlike him, who seemed to pass through the crowd as easily as water through fingers, he had to dodge and squeeze his way through numerous other people crowding the way. At any rate, the bounty hunter never looked up in his direction. He appeared to not even notice that he was there. As a result, Chipp felt somewhat on top of things when he arrived.

Oddly enough, there was an open space next to him…likely due to his presence intimidating others to backing away…and Chipp readily stepped into it. He leaned one elbow against the bar, and focused his attention on the bounty hunter. He concentrated his gaze, trying to burn into his eyes although they weren't focused on him.

The bounty hunter, in turn, didn't even act as if he saw him there. He continued to calmly drink.

"…Hello." Chipp finally spoke, in a tone of voice that was entirely non-greeting or friendly.

The bounty hunter didn't pause in his movements, let alone look at him.

"I guess I should have expected to see you here." Chipp continued after a moment. "You're a bounty hunter and this is a big bounty, after all." A pause. "Remember me?"

The man took another sip, still not looking over to Chipp. However, after a moment longer, he did give an answer.

"Yes."

The single word, innocent seeming enough as it was, seemed to reverberate through Chipp's being. It hadn't even been hostile, but it still struck him to his core…and he could almost feel his old injuries flare up on hearing it. He struggled not to shift uncomfortably in place.

"You know, I've spent some time dodging out of police stations since we met, looking to see if my face is on any wanted posters. And I saw their top ten most wanted. I recognized your face. You're Sol Badguy, aren't you?"

Another calm sip, without looking to Chipp.

No answer, but Chipp didn't need one. He could memorize faces enough, and he knew what he looked like. Of course, in the pictures, he had been wearing one of those Sacred Order uniforms, but the face was unmistakable. He knew he had the right guy. If that was the case, then this bounty hunter was pretty wanted himself. It was kind of a paradox to Chipp-to be a notorious bounty hunter yourself and have a price on your head. He almost wondered why none of the people in the room had jumped on it yet…

"You're pretty bold. Coming out here when there's so many IPF officers and other bounty hunters. You're wanted for at least 100,000 world dollars yourself."

No response. Sol tipped back his glass and emptied it.

"I still owe you for back in England, you know." Chipp stated with a more dangerous edge to his voice, trying to garner some sort of reaction from the man. "It was because of you that I ended up getting caught by a Gear and nearly-"

Sol set his glass back down on the top of the bar abruptly, and took out a few coins from his pocket and put them down alongside it. After doing so, without another word, he turned and began to walk back the way he had come from the tavern.

"Hey!" Chipp shouted. "I'm still talking to you!"

Sol didn't act like he noticed. Chipp frowned and took off after him. Despite the fact that he followed right behind Sol, the bounty hunter seemed to move easily through the crowds without having to part them, while Chipp had to force his way through again. As a result, he quickly lost ground, and he left the tavern while Chipp was still ten feet away. Gritting his teeth and fearing that he'd lose him, the ninja burst forward, practically shoving people out of his way, much to their anger and swearing, and reached the doors. He quickly pushed them open and charged out into the daylight of the village street.

Once there, he paused momentarily, turning his head from side to side. At first, he saw only other bounty hunters walking to and fro or seated against the sides of the road. But then, he caught a glimpse of Sol's tall, spiked hair walking along to his left. Immediately, Chipp turned in that direction and tore after him, pushing past a few more hunters walking down the street. It took a bit of effort and work on his part, but finally he managed to get by them and reach Sol.

As soon as he did, he dashed out in front of his path and stood in his way.

"We're not finished yet." He told the man. "I've still-"

He cut himself off a moment later as Sol simply stepped around him and kept going.

Chipp stayed back for a brief second, but quickly began to develop a fuming look on his face. Snapping around again, he ran back after Sol, overtook him, stood in his path again, and this reached out and placed a hand on his chest. Sol didn't push but came to a halt. In all honesty, Chipp was somewhat surprised at that. He half expected, after their last fight, for Sol to lash out, seize him by the hand, and try and break it before flipping him aside. However, he simply stood there and looked up to Chipp.

"I said we're not finished yet. Don't walk away from me when I'm-"

"What do you want?" Sol finally asked. In doing so, despite the fact that his voice was quiet, he managed to not only cut Chipp off but reduce him to silence. "Are you wanting to fight? To 'get even'?"

Chipp stood still momentarily. He was held by the power of Sol's voice for a few seconds, and that rendered him silent. But after a bit longer, he blinked once, seeming to come out of it.

"…No."

"Then what do you want?"

Chipp was forced to pause again. To tell the truth he didn't know. He had just seen Sol at the bar, and he had gone up to him and started talking. He didn't know why exactly. He just felt some urge to talk to this man on seeing him again. He had thought it might have been for revenge at first, but now that he was here, staring him in the face and in the prime position to lash out with his blade and cut his throat if he wanted to, he found himself not wanting to fight. Time ticked by and still Chipp had said nothing. Sol, however, appeared to be patient. He continued to stand there and wait for him.

Finally, the ninja slowly let his hand fall from Sol.

"I'd…like to follow you around for a while." He finally found himself saying.

Sol stared back without change in expression for a moment or two, but then shrugged. "Suit yourself."

With that, he stepped around Chipp again and continued to walk. The ninja stood there as he left for a moment, bowing his head slightly and thinking about what he had just said…and what he wanted. But then, he snapped his head up and turned it around behind him. After a momentary pause, he took off after Sol once again and fell in behind him.

* * *

As it turned out, Chipp ended up following Sol for close to two hours before they stopped. The man went out of the outskirts of the city and kept on walking. They went to the city limits and then plunged into the edge of the forest. Although the IPF had kept much of the inner regions locked off, there was still quite an area of forest that made up edge regions that were still open. After all, an area with a smaller radius was easier to cover than one with a larger one, however slight. Along the way, they passed many other bounty hunters arranged in small camps. Yet after about thirty minutes, those began to thin out and gradually vanish. So did any signs of police activity. They were quite alone for an hour of walking along.

The sun began to set as they made their way further. By this time of the year, the Schwarzwald was going into its fall color scheme, and many of the trees on the outer edge were turning. The setting sun turned them into brilliant hues of gold, amber, red, yellow, and an assortment of other shades as they passed along. Yet that only lasted a short time. The sun continued to lower. As it did, the noises of the forest began to grow louder. The insects, rather than dropping off, began to come out and buzz around them with greater intensity. Some of them grew quite large as well. Chipp frequently found himself smacking away at them as he trudged along behind Sol. He also grew nervous as it got darker and they continued to remain in the tree line. He might have studied ninjitsu and known a few techniques for survival, and he might have lived in the woods of England for a few days, but this was something else. This forest was much larger and felt much "darker", and as the sounds night creatures continued to build as the shadows lengthened in the woods it almost seemed like a living place. Chipp wasn't sure what Schwarzwald meant but he began to get the feeling that it wasn't good.

Yet in the end, they finally arrived at a small clearing. Chipp saw that a fire pit had already been excavated and loaded up with fuel, and a bed roll had been lain out along with a few other items of camping equipment. This was clearly where Sol was holing up. The man spoke not a word, but went straight to a bag where he began to get out various articles for cooking. As he did, he aimed the palm of his hand at the fire pit and lit it ablaze. Before long, both men were sitting opposite each other around the fire as the night closed in.

Chipp had decided to get his own food out while he was at it. As it turned out, this was a good place for a campsite due to a nearby spring. Sol gathered water for his own cooking shortly after arrival from a nearby stream, and Chipp decided to use the same source to fill his pot. After that, he heated it up over the fire, dropped in a packet of his ramen, boiled it, and then began to eat it straight out of the cooking receptacle. He soon saw Sol was far more meticulous. He actually set up a rack over the fire for his own pot. He seemed to have a set of ramen noodles as well, but after adding them in, he got out several small packets of what Chipp could only assume were spices. He began to add that to the mixture as well. Eventually, he also pulled out what looked like two small vegetables, which he chopped up with a separate knife and added them too. Even after that was done, he stirred the pot slowly and tasted it from time to time, adding more of one spice or another from time to time.

Chipp reclined a bit after his noodles were done next to the fire, while Sol was still not finished cooking his own meal. The night noises continued to cheep, click, buzz, and whirr around them, but they didn't seem nearly as hostile now that there was a fire going. The two hadn't said a word to each other since they had left town.

Finally, the ninja spoke up.

"Isn't it good enough yet?"

Sol continued to stir his pot. "Good cooking takes time and patience."

Chipp frowned. "What good does it do you if you starve to death while making it?"

"I'm not anywhere close to starving to death. All things in life that are worth doing are worth doing well. 'Getting by' is not good enough."

Chipp went silent. Sol, on his part, tasted his mixture once again. He held for a moment, seeming to think it over. Finally, he removed the pot from the fire and brought it with him as he moved back a few feet. Once there, he sat down with it and took up a nearby eating utensil. He scooped up some noodles from his concoction and eating them. Chipp watched him for a few moments, not saying anything else.

Eventually, he started to grow tired of the silence again. He couldn't just sit around with this guy all night.

"So…you have any idea about what ended up happening back in England?" He asked. He paused a moment, but then gave a snort as he bowed his own head and crossed his arms. "I ended up getting saved by some British guy and Millia Rage, of all people… Feh…imagine that. And I thought if I ran into someone like her that I'd get into a fight to the death trying to pump her for information. Then some IPF officer ends up bailing us all out when we were lost underground…only to have his buddies pick me up." He frowned slightly at the remembrance of all of this, but then turned his face to totally focus on Sol. "So what did you end up doing?"

"I fought the Gear known as Testament, but in spilling his blood accidentally broke the seal on Justice and brought her back into this dimension. After doing so, I had no choice but to kill her before she could reactivate any Gears."

Chipp stared blankly. He wasn't terribly familiar with Gear history but he knew enough to recognize the name Justice when he heard it and what that entailed. He also knew enough to know that the current Gears were inactive because Justice had been sealed away. What Sol had just said should have been shocking to anyone who knew these facts. However, Sol spoke about them rather calmly while in the middle of eating his meal, not seeming to be too overwhelmed at his own series of events. As a result Chipp began to wonder if he was just pulling his leg. All of that sounded a bit overwhelming. Yet Sol showed no indication of wanting to either assert that this was true or to confirm that it was in jest.

"Alright…whatever." He finally stated.

Sol didn't react to this dismissal. He continued to calmly eat.

"So I guess you're here for that bounty now… All the bounty hunters are. 500,000 world dollars, wasn't it?"

"What if I said I wasn't?"

Chipp paused again on hearing this sudden and unexpected reply. The man didn't say any more. He continued to eat, leaving Chipp to say the next thing. The ninja hesitated before speaking again.

"Then I guess I'd be kind of interested in finding out why you were here after all."

"You were on a vendetta the last time I saw you." Sol responded, seeming to evade the comment. "I don't see how killing this Gear or securing the bounty will aid you in getting revenge. Why are _you_ here?"

Chipp was caught off guard by that question. He hadn't expected it to be asked. He had thought that Sol would just assume that he was here for the cash and leave it at that. He wondered if he should tell the man. After all, he hadn't said that he _wasn't_ here for the bounty yet, after all, despite his cryptic question. He was a bounty hunter. It made sense that he would be going after it. And if so, then he realized that Sol probably wouldn't understand his own reasons and might even be a hindrance to them.

"Tell me if you're here for the Gear first." Chipp finally stated.

For the first time since he had talked to him, Sol actually paused in what he was doing. He seemed to catch him a bit by surprise with that statement. However, it was only for a moment. Then he went back to eating once again.

"I'm a bounty hunter. It's what I do."

Chipp grimaced slightly. He let out an exhale through his nostrils. He turned his head slightly away from Sol. "I thought as much."

Sol, for the second time, paused in his eating. He held for a moment this time. After a few seconds more, he actually set the pot down against the ground and left his utensil inside it. He folded his hands in front of him and looked up, fully focusing on Chipp. The ninja noticed this through his peripheral vision and it puzzled him slightly. Why would he focus on him now?

"You know…" He muttered after a moment. "I'm a mass murderer myself."

Sol didn't respond, but he continued to stare.

Chipp frowned slightly and made a gesture. "I mean…I never went out and sliced people up…and I never blew up any towns or anything…" His frown faded and his hand slowly went back down to his side. "But yes…I've killed a lot of people."

"…How?"

Chipp inhaled again. "…I sold them poison." He answered quietly. "And I sold a lot of poison in my life. I never really thought about it until a few years back, but I eventually figure that one out of ten people who I sold stuff too probably ended up beaten, dead, or in jail because of it. That makes me a mass murderer. It makes me a piece of human garbage. Sh*t like me probably doesn't even deserve to go on walking around on the face of the Earth."

No answer but silence.

The ninja turned his head back slightly to Sol. He didn't look him in the face, but he angled himself more to him. "But Tsuyoshi…he saw something in me. He came to me when I was totally broken…begging for life. And he thought he saw something inside me that still resembled a human being. He gave me a second chance to make something decent out of myself. He ended up turning my life around. He taught me discipline…patience…self-respect…everything I had never had an ounce of. He made me into the man I am today. And it was all because he saw something in me that no one else could."

The ninja looked up briefly to Sol, and saw that he still had the man's attention. As a result, he turned even more toward him.

"But some new thought came to me a few weeks ago. Something I never considered before. You see, Tsuyoshi saved my life. He had redeemed me…the irredeemable. But I never saw anyone else that way. All the other drug dealers, gangsters, assassins…they were still garbage to me. And that's what I thought of them when I went out trying to avenge Tsuyoshi's death. I didn't care if I killed them or maimed them or whatever because I felt they deserved it. I forgot that there was very little difference between them and me. And one day…I just woke up and realized that. These people I wanted dead…would Tsuyoshi have wanted them dead too? Or would he have seen some trace of humanity left in them like he did with me? Would he have tried to give them the things they needed to be better people?

"And that's when I realized what I had to do with my life. Just like I had gotten spared, I had to spare someone else. I had to try and give someone else a second chance at life. I had to save someone just like I got saved."

Sol was still giving him his undivided attention. However, the ninja looked down a bit again this time.

"That's when I heard about this Gear… I don't know why but when I heard about this one I went and did a little research back on the Crusades. They kept saying this was an 'active' Gear… I wanted to know what that meant. I found out about how that one 'Command Gear'…Justice…he had controlled all the others. That's why they stopped moving around when they got rid of him. And from what I've been seeing, they've noticed that all the Gears are still not moving around. The means that whatever this active one is, it's not Justice. It's a Gear all by itself.

"I heard what they've been reporting…how it killed all those people when it escaped. But then I started thinking…I killed plenty of people myself. I just didn't do it as directly. And I figured, what else would I do if I was in a world full of people who hated me? Who wanted me dead? I thought back to things I had heard back when I was caught by that one Gear; about how it thought it didn't have any other choice. And when I started thinking about all these things, I began to wonder. What if these things are just doing what they think they have to do? What if they're just the way they are because no one gives them any other way? And I remembered…I used to think there was no other way myself. I couldn't see myself living any other life than that of a drug dealer. But Tsuyoshi showed me there was something different…something more that I could become…and so…"

"So you think that this Gear is that someone else that you have to give a second chance to?"

Chipp looked up to Sol. He stared calmly back, not betraying any look or any other emotion. The ninja hesitated. He swallowed slightly and turned his head down.

"…I'm sure it sounds crazy to most people. I mean…they're genocidal maniacs. They killed people by the thousands…by the millions, even. This one looks like it's doing the same thing. I think I'm kind of crazy myself for doing it…" A pause. "…But what if, you know? What if this one is different? What if it's someone who needs another shot like me?"

He looked up after saying that and back to Sol.

"That's why I've got to ask you something. I can't ask everyone, but you seem like you're a reasonable guy. I think you'd understand. I've got to ask you not to go after that Gear."

Sol stared back expressionlessly at that request.

"I've fought you, so I know you're pretty tough stuff. You could probably take it. But I'm asking you not to. Give it a chance. Please."

Sol continued to stare back silently in response. Chipp stared back, his look imploring and practically pleading with the bounty hunter. Sol betrayed no emotion of his own, not looking the least bit impacted by Chipp's story. The two were silent. The night noises continued to pass by, and the fire crackled and popped, sending out a large spark between the two of them.

In the end, Sol turned his head back down to the pot in front of him. He reached over and took it up again. He once again took his utensil, and began to manipulate it into the food once again. Chipp saw all this and thought it was a brush off. He thought that his words had fallen on deaf ears. He began to frown again. He probably shouldn't have said anything at all. But then, Sol suddenly spoke up again.

"You're wrong."

Chipp let out a slow sigh on hearing this. He reached up and rubbed a hand against his forehead. "I knew it…" He said in a dark voice to himself. "I should have just kept my mouth shut. I didn't think you'd understand…"

"…The Gear you're looking for hasn't hurt anyone…yet."

Chipp froze in the middle of rubbing his hair. His eyes looked back up to Sol in surprise. The man continued to work at his noodles, pulling some out and taking another bite. After swallowing this and resuming getting another amount, he spoke again.

"I managed to get through the barricade to the site of where the villagers were holding this Gear. The bodies had been removed by then, but on all the slash marks that were surrounding the area, I could sense a different magical presence. An aura, if you will. I sensed a separate one in the cell where they were holding the Gear. The first one was powerful indeed…but it didn't belong to the Gear. The Gear didn't break out of its own accord. It was liberated by another."

Chipp blinked in surprise. "…You say you 'sensed' it? How?"

Sol ignored this question. He took another bite from his own ramen. "Based on what I sensed, the power of the Gear was even greater than that of the one who freed it. It had more than sufficient strength to kill everyone in this town and probably Germany. Yet it was held prisoner for some time and subjected to abuse by its captors without ever striking back. The fact that it never fought back against any of this or attempted to free itself makes me lean to the conclusion that you hoped was true. This Gear is peaceful. For the moment, it has endured the suffering that it's been subjected to by humanity and has not yet become corrupted by it. That may change soon as it continues to be hunted, but for now, the fact that it is remaining in hiding rather than trying to fight its way out of the Schwarzwald indicates that it's benign."

Chipp stared back blankly at Sol. The man continued to eat his own meal silently afterward, having apparently come to the conclusion he was trying to make. This was unexpected news. He hadn't realized that Sol had already done so much digging into the matter. He still wasn't sure what he meant by "sensed" either, but nevertheless he was surprised. Slowly, a realization began to dawn on him as he stared on at the bounty hunter.

"…You don't want to kill it either, do you?"

"I said that as a bounty hunter, it was my job to hunt it." Sol responded. "I never said anything about killing it or collecting the bounty."

Chipp blinked in astonishment, but then he leaned in forward. "Well…why aren't you telling other people about this? I mean…I know you can't go straight to the IPF because of your record, but couldn't you pass on a note or something? Let them know what you found out? Tell them that this Gear isn't dangerous?"

"I never said the Gear wasn't dangerous. On the contrary, it represents a destructive power greater than most other Gears in the Crusades. I think I've only sensed Justice herself being stronger."

Chipp ignored the fact that he claimed to sense Justice, and that he was calling the he a "she". "Yes, but it hasn't killed anyone or hurt anyone."

"That doesn't mean it doesn't lack the capability to do so."

"But that's a moot point. Anyone can be dangerous if they have a weapon…"

"Not as dangerous as a Gear."

"But that other one you found out about… That's the one who did all of the killing…"

"It doesn't mean that the Gear couldn't do the same. And that individual isn't the one with the bounty on its head."

Chipp opened his mouth to protest again but then shut it once more. He began to realize what Sol was trying to hint at. The truth was it didn't matter if he shared this information or not. It wasn't going to stop any of the bounty hunters from pursuing that money to the death. As far as the International Police Force was concerned it didn't matter either. They'd see it as a Gear. And a Gear meant that it was a threat. They'd want it dead regardless of who it had killed or hurt. Chipp began to realize something else as well; about why Sol had been silent all this time. While the ninja had been brooding over whether or not it was safe to disclose his feelings to Sol, in truth the bounty hunter had been calculating whether or not it was safe to tell him these bits of information. He had been gauging him to see if he would understand.

In the end, Chipp tightened his hand into a fist and put it down against the ground.

"We've got to find that Gear."

Sol paused briefly in the middle of his eating.

"…We?"

Chipp gave a nod. "Yes. We. We're probably the only ones in this entire mob that know the Gear isn't a threat. We're the only ones who want it alive. We're the only chance it has right now. If it's as peaceful as you say, then it could get killed before it has a chance to defend itself. We've got to get to it and somehow get it out of this forest before anyone knows about it."

Sol took another bite from his ramen.

"I work alone."

"Come on!" Chipp protested. "You wouldn't have told me that story if you expected me to just give up and go home! We both want the same thing for that Gear! And look…there's groups of tens…twenties…even hundreds back in that town. They're going to have all those sets of eyes and ears looking around for the Gear. If there was just even two of us working together, we could cover twice as much ground. We could have one act as a diversion for these hunters and officers while the other one went in to check somewhere. Let's do this together!"

"I thought you said you still 'owed me' for England."

Chipp hesitated. He paled slightly. However, after stammering a moment, he finally let out a sigh and rolled his eyes.

"Alright…I was being an ass when I said that."

Sol stopped in the middle of his eating. He looked up again to Chipp. The ninja looked back down at him and stared intently back. Neither of them said anything for a minute. The fire continued to crackle and pop, and the night noises of the forest continued to issue forth.

Finally, Sol scooped back into the pot and pulled out the last bit of ramen. After polishing it off, he rose up to his feet, carrying the pot and the utensil with him. Chipp, puzzled by what this meant, looked up to him with some confusion. The bounty hunter looked down at him from that position for a second longer, but then finally spoke.

"…Go to sleep. I move out before dawn, and if you're still sleeping when I depart, I'll leave you behind."

Chipp lit up a bit on hearing that. However, Sol said no more. He turned and began to walk away; toward the spring. Evidently, he wished to clean out his pot and utensil before he laid down himself. On his own part, however, Chipp quickly did as he was told. Gathering up his own dirty pot to himself, he went for his bundle to get out his bedroll. He was used to getting up early before dawn himself, but he didn't want to take any chances on getting left behind. He wanted to be alert for tomorrow too.

Somehow the two of them would have to find that Gear first.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	8. Ronin

**"** **Ronin"**

* * *

The train station was empty at this time of night. Even with the recent surging migration of hunters up north to go to Germany and that 500,000 world dollar bounty, the fact remained that not too many people were active after hours. Coupled with the fact that this group was walking in "late in the game" and that most passenger trains were now being prohibited from going to Berlin due to the influx, that led to a mostly vacated station.

In reality, there seemed to be only one person out there at this time of night, and he was standing on the outside platform. Although there were some benches available closer to the main building on the opposite side of the platform, facing away from the tracks, he didn't use them. He stood close to the edge instead, looking down on the four sets that stretched seemingly infinitely in both directions. One couldn't really tell, in actuality, because they faded into darkness shortly after leaving the glow of the train station lights. Aside from the man, the area was otherwise abandoned, just like the interior of the station. A few overhead lamps for the station were still glowing, providing white illumination in the area. A wind rolled by, kicking up a few pieces of trash.

The man himself was dressed in black leather, including pants and a jacket. The jacket itself had the sleeves torn off, and wound around his torso was a long length of chain. A separate sword was strapped to his back. His face was scarred, with two prominent ones on his brow and his chin. All in all, his face looked pretty hard and firm. Like one could strike a match against it. His eyes were dark and grim.

A distant train whistle blew out. This prompted black leather to look up and turn his head to the south. He held it there momentarily, until another whistle sounded. The faint sound of train chugging became audible. It slowly built up in intensity, indicating that it was getting closer.

He quickly turned to his wrist and flipped it over, looking at a watch. He did so for a few moments, waiting for the seconds to tick down to a particular time. Once it reached it, he quickly lowered his wrist and turned around to face behind him. The train continued to blare, growing closer, but he ignored this for the time being. Instead he looked into the shadows. Soon afterward, new figures began to step out into the train station's lights.

The first was a giant of a man, stretching at least seven feet tall. He was dressed in rather skimpy clothing, with most of it barely concealing his massive frame. His face was dark and not in the least bit warm or cheery. Over his shoulders, he hauled what appeared to a piece of light artillery due to its sheer size. However, with his own massive strength, it soon became apparent that the man used it as a personal gun.

Another seemed to slide out of the shadows, slinking along the ground as he made his way forward. This one was dressed in tight-fitting, dark clothing; very similar to a member of the Assassin's Guild. He wore a pair of sunglasses despite the fact that it was dark, concealing his true appearance. In either hand, he possessed bladed gloves with three knives extending out along his fists. He had a strange smile on his face; one that was definitely not friendly.

Another came out wearing loose fitting clothing. This one was smaller than the other two, but one could tell that he had toned muscle as well. Based on his expression and features, as well as some designs that had been embroidered on his clothing, he appeared to be from the East. Across both of his shoulders rested a bo staff, and his arms draped over them and hung loosely downward.

The fourth was dressed in coveralls that were dirty and stained. A cap was pulled low over his head with a pair of large goggles resting on it. Hanging all over him in various ways and fashions (straps, pockets, belts) was a plethora of devices. They all formed assorted shapes and sizes and appeared to be for different functions, but none of them seemed offensive. This one appeared to be the youngest and smallest of those who had come out so far, and his look seemed wide-eyed and bright compared to that of the others.

The four new arrivals quickly made their way up to the fifth one. All the while, the sounds of the train coming drew closer and closer. By the time they reached the man and came to a stop, the lights were visible far down the track of the incoming engine.

The giant spoke first. "Is this everyone?"

"We're still missing the 'ronin'." Bo staff answered.

"If she's not here when the train gets here, then she can stay behind." Black leather answered. "One less share." He turned to the one with cap. "You've got everything you need?"

He eagerly nodded. "Sure thing." He patted the devices surrounding him.

"And you _can_ track this thing, right?"

"Oh, you bet. Easy as pie."

Black leather turned to the one with bladed gloves afterward. "And you're sure you can get us in?"

The smile widened. "You have any idea who you're talking to? Piece of cake."

"Good. You all know the drill. Each of us has his own part to play. We work together, we find that Gear before anyone else does, and we off it. My buddy on this train is gonna make sure it stops here for a system's check. That's when we get on. Supply drop will take us to ten miles within the radius of the Schwarzwald."

The train continued to draw closer as they spoke, and by the time they got to this point it was getting rather loud. All further communication had to be cut off due to the volume. Black leather turned back to the tracks and looked down the line to where the train was coming from. In the darkness, a few details began to emerge around the front light, although it was so bright and blinding that it was getting hard to see. On spotting this, he quickly turned to the others and motioned to them, before turning back and breaking into a run. The four quickly fell in behind him as best they could, with cap lagging behind most of all due to the devices all around him. They ran to the end of the platform and dropped onto the ground, out of sight of the incoming light. They continued to run along the side of the tracks once they got there, all while the train continued to approach.

Finally, a loud hydraulic braking sound emitted from the incoming engine. Only a few moments later, it passed by the group. At this point, black leather held up a fist to indicate for the others to halt, and stopped as well. The others quickly followed suit. The train itself continued to pass them, dragging one car after another by them. They weren't transport cars or for passengers. They were either tankers or freight containers; each one large, old, battered, and rusty. Hardly first class, but it didn't matter so long as they would take them where they needed to go.

Black leather began to undo some of the chain around his torso and started to wrap it around his hand as the train continued to pass them. It gradually became visible that the train was slowing while he did this, and after a few moments its speed had decreased considerably. Finally, as it began to draw slow enough for a person to potentially run alongside and grab onto it, a figure became visible hanging from the train cars that were approaching. Black leather continued to wind the chain around his hand until he had a good amount, and then ceased. After that, he looked to the oncoming figure, and reached into his pocket momentarily. He pulled out a small device, revealing a tiny flashlight. He turned it on and off twice, aiming it toward the dark figure. Moments later, as the figure became more sharp and defined, two more lights went out, this time from the form toward the group.

The train finally halted. With a loud burst of steam braking, the cars lurched to a stop. When they did, the car with the figure hanging in front of it stopped right in front of the five assembled. He was dressed in basic engineer's clothing and was hanging from a freight car that had its side door slightly open. As he stopped, he leapt off from the side and to the ground. He turned shortly thereafter and quickly pulled the door fully to one side, then turned back to the others; in particular black leather.

"Alright, hurry up and get on. We're only going to stop for about a minute or two, then we-"

Before he could get another word out, black leather drove the fist wrapped in chain forward and deep into his gut. The man's eyes bulged and his mouth opened in surprise as well as pain, and he doubled over instantly. As soon as he did, black leather pulled his arm back out and drove the fist down on the back of his neck. He collapsed to the ground, going limp and splaying out. Afterward, black leather calmly pulled his chain back and started to wind it around his body again, removing it from his fist as he did so. The others were calm as well, except for cap, who looked a bit confused and even shocked at all this.

"Why did you do that?"

"He wanted a cut." Black leather answered. "Don't worry. Next stop is the drop off. They won't miss him until then. Now get on."

Cap continued to stare hesitantly, but the others weren't the same way. The giant stepped forward and reached out, seizing the sides of the train car and literally stepped up into the open doorway. Gloves moved in next and showed off a bit, poising slightly and then leaping inside, sailing up several feet in order to land inside the opening in full standing up position. Black leather turned to motion to cap and bo staff to hurry up and get in as well, and the two already inside looked out from their opening down to those who had yet to enter. Yet as black leather turned back, he suddenly paused. The two inside also looked up slightly, past the other three on the ground and out into the distance. Cap and bo staff saw this, and so they too turned to see what had gotten their attention.

A woman now stood in the darkness a short distance away; standing still and simply looking at them.

She was dressed in a black and white kimono, with the vest black and the parts covering her arms and legs white. A red and black star symbol was emblazoned on the lower portion of the kimono crossing her legs. Her feet were decked with gold colored sandals, and her ankle and shin guards were fastened with gold colored stripes although they themselves were black. Her left arm had a similar arm guard on top of it, coming from the sleeve of her kimono. Her other sleeve, however, dangled freely in the wind. The edge of it was torn and frayed, looking as if it had seen severe wear and tear. Due to its shape, it indicated that there was nothing underneath it-a clear sign that the woman had only one arm. Around her waist was bound a red sash, and with it a black and gold sheath for a katana blade, which rested within it.

A large straw hat was placed over her head, obscuring most of her facial features. What was visible was that her hair was dyed red, almost pink, and was tied back aside from two large strands on the sides of her face. The rest of her features were hidden. One could just barely see her lips within the darkness coming from underneath that hat. They were clasped and stoic, betraying no emotion.

The two sides stood standing and staring at each other for a moment. Even the biggest of them felt slightly unnerved. The woman had seemed to appear out of nowhere…to suddenly materialize or blow in with the wind. She, on her part, did not move. She stood there calmly without any indication of motion or interest. Her lips remained normal and featureless. Almost a whole minute passed with the two of them standing there.

Finally, black leather stiffened up a bit, and raised his head to her.

"You're late. I said to be at the platform before the train got here."

No response from the woman. She stood there as still as a statue.

Cap leaned over to bo staff. " _That's_ the 'Ronin'?" He asked him, keeping his voice quiet. "She's only got one arm…"

"Shut up." Bo staff immediately retorted. "They say she's the best at what she does. Besides, what do we care? If she gets killed, one more share for the rest of us." With that, he turned and went to the open train door. He grabbed the edges and pulled himself inside.

Black leather, on seeing this, began to become more normal again, as did the others. He turned his body toward the train himself. "You coming or what? This train leaves pretty soon."

The woman didn't answer. However, her feet began to shift one in front of the other. Moving slowly, she walked toward the open train. Her lips stayed expressionless, and she kept her one arm on the hilt of her sword. Cap stared on at her a bit longer, but then turned away and went to the train edge. He needed help getting in with all the devices strapped to him, and, reluctantly, the giant offered it. With a growl, he leaned over, practically seized cap by the shirt, and yanked him up and into the car. Black leather grabbed the side and leapt into it as well. Shortly after doing so, the train whistle blew. On hearing that, he spun around to the woman.

"Hey! Shake a leg, already!"

The woman didn't answer or alter her speed. She didn't even raise her head to black leather. She continued to close in slowly. She reached the edge of the train at last, but as she did the train suddenly gave a hiss and began to move forward. Black leather looked to the engine momentarily, and then back down to the slow-moving woman. Gritting his teeth slightly at her slowness, and wondering if they should even be bothering with her, he at last reached out with a hand to her.

In another moment, he would have told her to "grab on". Yet before he could, the woman suddenly made a slight squat and leapt. Moving just as easily and smoothly as gloves had, she sailed up into the air, across the short distance the train had made by moving, and landed lightly right within the threshold of the train car. The others gathered around backed up in surprise at her sudden movement, but she herself merely straightened out after landing and stood straight and tall. She held momentarily in that position but then raised her hand toward the straw hat on her head and slowly pulled it off.

What was revealed with the iciest expression a woman had ever possessed. It was cold, hard, and utterly without the slightest trace of warmth or humanity. Her eyes were red and hard as steel…or, rather, her "eye" was. Specifically, her right eye. Her left eye was pale and dead, with a long scar going from her forehead to her cheek over it. Across her other eye, she had a red sickle tattooed with a dot on her forehead topping it and the point of the sickle aimed downward across her cheek.

The group members stood back from her momentarily, a bit stunned at her sudden display of prowess. In the end, black leather gave a slight smile and a nod to her. "Welcome."

The woman didn't even look at him. Without a word, she stepped forward and moved in between two of the group members, the giant and gloves, for one of the corners of the train; the one farthest from the group as they were currently situated. Once she reached it, she calmly folded her legs down together, removing her sword from her side, and sat down in a cross-legged position. She balanced the blade over one shoulder afterward, and crossed her arm over it. She bowed her head slightly and closed her eyes. She went still.

Black leather looked away from her and to the others. They stared silently back, all of them showing nothing in regards to this display. Yet they dismissed it. They weren't in this to earn points for being friendly. In the end, they all separated and dispersed to other parts of the car and began to sit down as well to relax for the trip.

All of them, however, seemed to keep their distance from the woman.

* * *

Eight hours later, the sun had risen, spilling light into the interior of the train car. The group members were all seated at that time, but they had gotten up and stretched their legs more than once, changing positions when they did so. It had been a long ride, after all, and many of them were getting bored. However, they could look outside now and see the changing landscape. They watched as the environment began to show more pastoral and German architectural types, indicating that they had crossed into the country. Based on how fast the train was going, they had concluded that they only had about another hour or so before they would arrive at their destination.

The giant was against a wall, leaning back with his legs stretched out in front of him and his cannon propped up against it. Gloves was seated in the center of the car, sharpening his blades and still having that strange smile across his face, as if he was relishing it. Cap was seated against the wall toward the middle across from gloves, tightening a few features on one of his own devices and checking it out. He finished in short order and put it back to his side, and leaned back and began to look around the room again. As for bo staff and black leather, they were at the entrance to the train car, still hanging open and affording a wide view of the passing countryside. They were talking. As for the ronin, she hadn't moved an inch since they had taken off, not even to stretch her legs. She remained in that position in the corner.

"So once we get off here…how far to your truck?" Black leather asked.

"If it's just the same, I think I'll keep that to myself." Bo staff answered calmly. "And keep in mind it's got a microchip lock on it as well, so hotwiring it won't do you any good."

Black leather frowned. "Why do you feel the need to tell me all that?"

"Let's just say after what you did to your buddy back in Italy, I'd like to make myself a bit more crucial to this operation." Bo staff answered with a dark note in his voice. "I'm a bit more than just hired muscle."

Black leather gave him a glare after that, but said no more.

Cap continued to look over the room, before his eyes fell on the ronin. He stared at her momentarily afterward, while the rest of the car became silent and looked over their own matters. The bottom of the car lifted and dropped slightly as they hit a bump, rocking the contents of it slightly.

Finally, he called out to her.

"…You're Japanese, aren't you?"

Slowly, the eyelids of the woman opened. Her gaze was aimed at the ground. However, it held there only a moment before turning upward and glaring straight at cap. He turned his head slightly down to his devices as she did so, not noticing her glare automatically.

"I was in Southeast Asia for a few years." He explained. "I got to learn how to tell the difference between where various Asians are from. They think most people of European descent can't do that sort of thing…"

"What business is it of yours whether or not I'm Japanese?"

Everyone in the car went still. That was the first thing they had heard from the ronin since they had met her. The others inclined their heads or their ears toward her. Cap, however, looked up and turned to the woman. She was still glaring at him, and her look was as cold as ice. Her one red eye seemed to burn into him.

Cap stared back at her momentarily but soon began to grow uncomfortable. Her stare did not abate, but continued to glare at him, seeming to pierce into him for an answer. After a moment, he swallowed slightly, and gave a shrug.

"…Just trying to make conversation, lady."

The woman didn't change. She continued to stare at him with that same cold look.

Cap looked at her a bit longer, but continued to grow uncomfortable. After a few moments, he turned his head away and looked back to his devices. He reached down and tried to fiddle with them for a second. The train remained silent, with only the periodic rhythm of the tracks beneath ringing out. After a bit longer, still looking uneasy, he turned his head slightly back to look to the woman again. Her look hadn't changed. She was still staring at him coldly. He swallowed again. Unable to look at her face, much less look her in the eye, he turned his head down when he spoke again.

"I…I didn't mean anything by it."

"Then why didn't you keep your mouth shut?"

Each word was like an icy knife being slid along cap's spine. It wasn't even directed to the others, but they too began to grow uneasy. Even the giant shifted a bit where he was.

Cap rubbed his fingers together uneasily, for a sweat was growing between them.

"…Look, I'm sorry."

No response from the woman. Cap didn't look to her again, afraid of what he would see. He continued to hold and turn his attention away from her. However, he couldn't do that forever. He wanted to know whether or not she had taken this as enough apology and had turned away again. And so, eventually, he looked back up to her for a momentary glance.

No change. She continued to stare at him coldly.

Cap looked away from her again. His fingers began to rub together once more. He began to wish he had been born mute or at least had never had the presence of mind to say anything at all to that woman. Her being in a corner bent over herself was far better than her paying any attention to them, he now realized. He tried to hold back longer afterward; hoping that ignoring her would diffuse the situation. But he could still feel her one living eye beating down on him as he turned away. It wouldn't let up. Sweat began to form on his brow. He tightened his jaw and loosened it as he continued to rub his fingers. If this had been anyone else, or any other sort of look, he might have spun on them and asked what their problem was. Yet something was so dangerous about this woman that he felt like doing so would have been like turning to smack a rattlesnake.

"…I said I'm sorry." He finally insisted.

"I know." The ronin calmly answered.

Cap's flesh turned a shade pale. Sweat continued to pile up on his brow, and slowly began to roll off of it. His eyes turned to black leather, wanting to see if he would break this up. He was watching them both now, as it turned out. And the thought had occurred to him to try and dissolve the situation. However, although the woman wasn't staring at him, he could feel the tension between the two right now…and something told him that if he did try and intervene that it wouldn't go that well for him. Time continued to tick by, and there was no relief in sight for cap. He could only squirm in his spot, held underneath that gaze.

Finally, she spoke.

"Unsettling, isn't it?" She asked in a cold voice. "Being stared at?"

With that, she bowed her head again and shut her eyes, resuming her previous position.

Cap let out an exhale, as if the woman had him on the ground with a foot against his throat and had been daring him to breathe. He turned completely away from the woman and didn't look to her again for the remainder of the trip, or for any time afterward that he could avoid it.

As for the others, they remained silent all the way up until they reached their destination and filed out of the train car. When they did, without the slightest indication that she was troubled or thinking of the previous incident, the ronin calmly got up and followed afterward.

* * *

The moon wasn't out, making it an especially dark night on the forest edge. Even the night creatures seemed to have gone quiet in the wake of it, ceasing most of their loud cheeping and clicking and other noises for that particular evening. Things were calm and quiet, which was only typical. Unlike Hildebrant, where hundreds of bounty hunters were throwing all sorts of hoopla and excitement in the wake of their inability to enter into the forest after the Gear, this place was secluded and still peaceful. This was deeper into the interior of the Schwarzwald, and the trees grew so thick and compact together that they seemed to have an insulating effect against any sound that would come.

However, in this particular area, there was still some noise. Four officers were gathered at a temporary outpost, surveying the zone and monitoring it. The outpost itself consisted of their car and a monitoring relay with a large antenna construction placed in the ground along the barrier of the forest zone. One of the officers was leaning against it while sitting in a folding chair that had been provided for whoever was utilizing the device, watching an electronic screen that was similar to a radar sweep. Unlike radar, however, it was scanning for the presence of high concentrations of magical bioelectric energy, the kind that would only be found in other humans. It picked up only four at the moment, and that was the four officers. It had only been picking up four for hours, since they had stepped in to relieve the day shift. No one had attempted to breach the barrier around the forest for days, not since they began arrests. As a result, the monitoring officer was rather bored as he watched it, looking for any change.

The other three paced around nearby. They had rifles slung over their shoulders, swords at their hips, and flashlights in their hands, scanning the surrounding forest looking for signs of any intruder. Since they were actually moving around, they were a bit more alert and wide-eyed. Overall, however, this was a minor assignment. All they were doing was ensuring that the perimeter wasn't compromised, along with a few hundred other officers that made up one of two divisions. The other division was engaged in the more interesting work…namely trying to chase down the Gear that was responsible for this whole mess.

The officer's eyelids drooped once before opening again. He let out a small grunt, and raised up a hand to wipe at his face. He pulled it away moments later and stared on at the screen. Suddenly, however, his eyelids opened a bit wider, and he leaned up slightly.

One of his fellow officers spotted this, and stopped in his own flashlight scanning and turned to him. "What's up?"

"We've got an incoming signature…coming straight from the perimeter. It's headed right for us." The officer at the console responded.

Another officer snorted. "Pretty stupid. Don't they see us out here? The last couple guys tried to sneak around us at least…"

"Let's just stop it." The first officer who spoke answered, turning his own flashlight out toward the perimeter of the forest. It was still several hundred yards away, but they knew the direction of it well enough. The other two quickly followed suit. Their beams scanned the area before them but picked up nothing. That was alright, however. There were lots of shadows and understory in the way. They wouldn't necessarily see them right away.

The first officer put a device near to his mouth. When he spoke out through it, his voice was amplified to blast throughout the entire surrounding forest. "This area is off limits to civilians under International Police Force emergency provisions. Turn back immediately."

They saw nothing. No indication of movement. There was no sound either. No changes. After a moment, the first officer turned his head back to the one at the console, pulling the device away from his face. "Well?"

He frowned and shook his head. "Nothing. They're still coming. Looks like it's at running speed too."

The first officer sighed and turned back to the forest. The device returned to his mouth. "This area is off limits to civilians. Turn back at once or we are authorized to use force."

"They're still not turning back." The one at the console answered. "They should be in visual range…" He further added, growing confused in his tone of voice. He looked up away from the device and toward the woods. "Are you sure you can't see them yet?"

"I don't see a thing." A different officer answered. "You sure they're not crawling forward instead of running?"

"They're moving too fast to be crawling…and they're almost on top of us."

The first officer frowned. He pulled the device away from his mouth and returned it to his belt. After doing so, he unslung his rifle from his torso and held it in front of him, toward the area that the two other officers continued to illuminate. Aiming high, he discharged a single shot from it as a warning. The noise was loud and booming, echoing throughout the entire area. A few creatures deeper in the forest rustled and bolted for it, creating a distant clamor of sound. However, there was no other change.

The one at the console shook his head. "Still coming…" He spoke with some hesitation, sounding confused. He looked out from the console again in front of them, and then back to the screen. "Something's not right here. We should be seeing them by now. They're coming into the clearing…"

Another officer began to unsling his own weapon, turning to the console officer. "They have to be crawling, 'cause I'm not seeing anything…"

The other officer waved his hand at it. "The damn thing's just screwing up. There's nothing out th-"

As he was still speaking a form suddenly dropped out from the tree canopy directly overhead. Both hands were extended to either side and made into fists, so that as the form sailed down the hands came down to solidly land on the heads of the two officers that were holding rifles. A resounding smack resulted as they connected, and both of them immediately crumpled to the ground. The figure itself landed in a squat. The one at the console and the other officer looked up to this in surprise, and the latter of the two immediately went for his sword while the former began to rise from the console and step back. But before either of them could get that far, the figure shot to his feet and lunged at the officer drawing his blade, flashing out with his fist as he did so. In the gleam of a flashlight that had been dropped, metal shined momentarily before it went across the officer. He gave a cry and then collapsed as well. The figure spun around afterward to the one rising from the console. This one began to go for a weapon too, but was too late. The figure shot forward and swiped across him too and he likewise fell.

The figure stood straight and tall afterward, and looked over the area and his handiwork. The flashlights were all on the ground, shining their beams of light only out narrowly and low to the surface of the forest. After scanning for a moment, his eyes went over the two figures that he had knocked out instead of having killed. He glared at them with a wild look in his eye, and then suddenly shot down to the ground next to them. His fists went up into the air, brandishing bloody blades for a moment, and then went down again twice. After that, he rose up once again and stood calmly. After a moment, he reached down to the ground again and pulled what looked like a bit of cloth from one of the fallen officers, probably a strip of clothing. He took this up as he stood again and started to wipe off the blades on his fists.

A few minutes later, a rustling sound became audible. Not long after that, new dark shapes began to emerge into the clearing, five in all, all carrying various weapons or devices and of various forms and builds. As they did so, the one cleaning his blades bent down and began to pick up the flashlights one by one and turn them off. He had only gotten to one, however, before one of the figures stepped forward to him and the pile of bodies that were at his feet. He looked around at them for a moment, and then back to the figure tossing the extinguished flashlight back to the ground. Another figure ran to the signal array. The others held back.

"I thought you were just going to disable them." Black leather addressed.

"Look pretty disabled to me." Gloves answered. "Besides…did you want to wait for them to wake back up and call in their friends to find us?"

"This was supposed to be a quiet operation. Now we've got four bodies…"

"If you don't like the way I do things, then the next patrol you run into is all yours."

Black leather was silent on hearing that. He formed something of a frown, but in the end let it slide. He turned away from gloves and looked around to the one who had run to the console. In the dim light and shadows formed by the flashlights, it became clear that he was looking at cap. Currently, he had pulled out one of his devices off of his person and was opening the side of the console antenna using a tool he had produced from his belt. "Have you fixed that yet?"

"Almost…" Cap answered. He soon got the side of the device open. Once it had done so, he took up the device, manipulated something on it to turn it on, and inserted it into the cavity he had made. Once that was finished, he quickly closed it up and began to reattach the paneling on the side. That was soon finished as well, and once it was he replaced his tool and turned back to the others. "All done. That'll erase our presence from the log history of the detection device. They'll never know we were here."

Black leather nodded. "Good." After that, he turned to the giant. "Alright…your turn now. How far away did you say where they were keeping it had to be?"

"Three miles." The giant answered. After saying this, he began to walk forward again. He passed by black leather and gloves as he did so, and didn't go out of his way to avoid stepping on the bodies that gloves had piled up. He continued past them further east into the forest, and beckoned to the others. "Follow me."

* * *

Crossing the forest terrain wasn't easy, especially in the middle of the night under an already thick canopy. There were numerous ravines and creek channels being cut throughout it, making going in a straight line extremely difficult in more than one place, especially hauling their equipment along for the ride. Coupled with the fact that the Schwarzwald was especially dark and foreboding, even to those who were of the "braver" sort and claimed to have no fear, and progress was arrested to almost a crawl. Nevertheless, it took them only a little under two hours to reach the site of where it had been imprisoned. With the police long since having concluded their investigation, they had the place to themselves.

On arrival, the various group members, minus the ronin, had deployed flashlights and began to sweep them over the area. They saw numerous indicators of paint and police tape marking out areas where people had been slaughtered. There were still the remains of fire pits from where they had been camping outside, as well as a few spent shells or broken weapons lying around on the scene. Most unsettling were the trees that had been cut down with single slices that were strewn about in several places, obviously used as weapons in and of themselves. However, most important was a shack in the center of one clearing that they eventually arrived at. The door and the frame to it was shattered now, and numerous lines had been traced around the area indicating a multitude of bodies had been there at one point. Even without the corpses there, it was rather unsettling to behold.

Black leather scanned the surroundings and tried to remain as stiff and hard as possible. If this had been anywhere else, he probably wouldn't have been that affected. But this was the Schwarzwald…a magically grown forest. The night noises here were too loud, the sounds of rustling too distinct, and the darkness a little too thick. Added to the fact that he was in a veritable graveyard, despite the fact that it was missing its bodies, and it didn't make him too comfortable. Somewhere in this forest, after all, whatever had done this was still alive and waiting for someone to come and try and get it… And even if they had no weapons training or significant armaments, forty people was forty people. Those were hard odds for anything to overcome.

Bo staff, gloves, and the giant were stepping around the perimeter at roughly equidistant intervals, scanning the forest surrounding the clearing for signs of any life or police. Black leather was pretty sure they couldn't be followed, but he wasn't sure about how long it would be before their "handiwork" was noticed and more officers would be alerted. Cap was on the ground, holding a pair of devices over it. He kept his eye on one, sweeping it over the area. After a few moments, he made it stop on one patch of ground. On doing so, he put this device to one side and reached down and scooped up a handful of earth from the forest floor. He took this to his other device and placed it on a receptacle. He then began to press a few buttons on it.

The ronin herself stood half in and half out of the perimeter the others were making in the area. Her back was to black leather, and she calmly scanned the surroundings. Black leather didn't know what she expected to see without a flashlight, but he didn't care. He was growing to dislike her more all the time and wanted her to be out of the way as soon as possible. He deeply regretted ever recruiting her in the first place at this point.

Ignoring her, he turned to cap. "You know what you're doing with that thing, right?"

"Not to worry." Cap reasserted as he continued to work. "I cobbled this thing together from the most advanced Gear-tracking technology that was in existence at the end of the Crusades. I think I would have made a good field engineer if the war had kept going…" He pressed a few more buttons afterward, and then hit a large enter key. "And…got it."

Black leather began to step forward toward cap. The giant, seeming to pick up on this, turned away from his own duties and toward the two of them. He began to walk forward, and soon he was upon them both. Cap, on his part, remained low to the ground, and held up the device for both black leather and the giant to see as the latter approached. A moment after looking at it, black leather frowned.

"I have no idea what that crap means."

"The trail's almost cold after this long…" Cap explained. "But there's still a faint residue. Doing a sweep of it in the surrounding area, and I can pick up a faint trail heading east. After that, I hacked into the IPF satellite system and uploaded my own program from the console onto it to pick up traces of that signal. It's a bit crude, but I have a source of it some thirty miles away pinned down to a square mile area."

"And you're sure no one else knows this?"

Cap smiled and gestured to himself. "Hey…those IPF bozos don't have someone like me on their side. And you can bet they don't have a baby like this. Even if they did, they'd be bogged down in at least a dozen international treaty laws before they could use it. It's the equivalent of a major kind of spying. Sometimes it pays to be a criminal, eh?"

Black leather turned to the giant next. "Alright…so how do we get there?" He asked, pointing to the device in Cap's hands.

The giant glared at it a moment, turning his head from side to side, seeming to ponder it over. In the end, he extended a massive finger of his own to the screen and tapped it. "That's basic latitude and longitude, right?"

Cap nodded. "Right."

"Then I think I know the place. We have to go southeast for one day, into the river valley. Then we hike alongside it and follow it up until we reach the point where the river empties out into the area where he says the Gear's at. It's a rather big clearing, so we shouldn't miss it. That'll take another day, so it's two days all together. If we try going straight, we'll run into dozens of interfluves and gorges. It'll take three days that way."

Black leather gave a nod. "So southwest until we hit the river, then follow the valley until we reach the clearing. That it?"

The giant nodded back in response.

Black leather inhaled a bit and exhaled. "Good…then let's-"

The man cut himself off, giving out a mild grunt. When he did, his eyes went wide in shock. His mouth dropped open, and his arms went rigid at his sides. His hands reached up slightly toward his torso…but then froze. They remained in that immobile position with his fingers clenching outward. The giant heard him give the mild grunt and turned to him; immediately looking surprised as well. As for cap…he froze completely, for liquid had just splashed all over his face, red and warm…and coming from black leather.

Black leather stared out a moment longer before a slicing sound went out. Immediately, he fell down to his knees and collapsed forward, landing on his face. Two bloody gashes were across him. The first had sliced along his back. The second had slashed where his hamstrings lay, crippling him. Bo staff and gloves turned around immediately. Cap remained immobilized in shock…black leather's blood slowly running down his own face. Once he had fallen, the one responsible was revealed.

The ronin, looking cold as ice and emotionless as a statue, drew her blade back to her side.

The giant paused only a moment longer, but then reached up and began to move his large gun onto his shoulder, meaning to take aim at the woman. But he was far too slow. With the same dark, cold, and merciless look, the ronin twisted her blade around in her grip and darted it across to the side, slicing through the midsection of the giant. He cried out in agony as blood spilled forth from the wound, and his hands faltered on his weapon. He began to collapse where he was standing…and in doing so brought his head and neck down into the range of the ronin's sword. There was another slice, and the giant's cries went silent as he collapsed the rest of the way down, clutching for his neck where the cut had gone.

The ronin spun around to bo staff and gloves after that, and began to approach the both of them, not running but walking. They saw her coming, and immediately both of them brandished their weapons. Gloves ran forward to intercept her, and as he rushed he swung out a bladed fist straight for her face. The woman, in turn, brought up her blade and intercepted the blow, catching the knives on the gloves around her own single blade. Once that happened, gloves immediately tried to stab in with his other free hand, but the woman answered by twisting her blade in such a way as to continue to hold his one glove back with the blade while bringing the main part of it around to intercept the other, so that she held both against her sword.

She held firm there for a moment, bracing herself and holding gloves back with one arm despite the fact that he was using both against her… But then, she abruptly twisted her wrist and swung around with her blade, snapping it around in a circle. As she did, she pivoted the top portion of her sword forward so that it sliced through either wrist. Gloves' eyes widened and he let out a scream; either hand, with either bladed glove attached to it, falling to the ground. He fell to his knees as blood fountained out of both wounds, but the woman wasted no time on him. Her eyes were already on her next opponent. Not missing a beat, the woman pivoted around toward bo staff just as he brought his stick down over his head to drive it on top of her skull.

In turn, the woman brought her own blade up and crossed it overhead, and the two weapons collided and held. The two stood there momentarily, with bo staff bringing down his weapon as hard as he could with both hands, and the woman holding him up with one arm. Despite the differences in their builds and how many limbs they had available, the woman managed to keep him back without quivering. Nevertheless, bo staff clenched his teeth and continued to push down, keeping her pinned if nothing else. She endured this for a few more moments, tightening her own muscles and holding back against the pressing weight over her…

But then, she suddenly swung the stump of her other arm around and aimed it toward bo staff. He looked down in response to it, puzzled as to what she was doing with that, but he never truly got to find out. A moment later, and a pneumatic sound suddenly erupted from beneath the torn sleeve of her kimono. In response a telescopic spear suddenly expanded to full length and shot straight out for bo staff's exposed torso; skewering him through his shoulder region. The man was ripped clean off of his feet and carried backward through the air about ten feet, until it reached a tree around the edge of the clearing, where the point and shaft of the spear pierced into the wood and held there firmly, moving no more. Bo staff's own weapon fell out of his hand as he was left literally skewered and nailed to the tree. He moaned in agony as he feebly reached for the bloody stake anchoring him there.

The ronin slowly brought her sword back to her side from over her head. She also adjusted the stump of her arm to return to her side as well. After doing so, she turned her head to the ground. There was still one person left. Cap was sitting there, his eyes still wide, now not only from shock at having had blood splash over his face but from horror at how fast and brutally his comrades had been dealt with. Black leather was only giving dull moans. The giant was clutching his neck as if letting it go would cause him to bleed to death. Bo staff weakly tried to pull himself up on the very spear nailing him to the tree. Gloves had already gone limp as his stumps continued to fountain blood, and clearly didn't have long to live. Cap , however, had his own skin to worry about now. The woman glared at him with her one red eye-seeming almost to gleam in the darkness. No flashlights were aimed at her anymore. All of them had fallen to the ground along with their owners. But she still cast a dark silhouette.

And now it began to approach cap.

"No…no…no, wait a minute…" Cap began to stammer. He went back onto his arms and legs into a "crab walk" and started to scurry away from the ronin. But it was far too slow. She began to overtake him quickly. "You can have my share! You can have all of it!"

The woman reached cap, and he froze; expecting immediately for the sword to come down. He raised his arms in a futile effort to shield himself. However, the woman stopped once she was there in response to what she heard from him. She held the sword at her side, slowly dripping blood. Her one eye glared at him through the darkness.

"This isn't about the money. No one kills that Gear except me."

The sword raised and came down one last time.

* * *

 _To be continued..._

AUTHOR'S NOTE: For those of you who were disappointed in my original...I give you Baiken at long last. This is pretty much the cast for the story, however. I omitted some of the characters who appeared in the original even if they showed up in the game because I was having a hard enough time juggling all the current story threads. Sorry if your favorite got left out. (I know Axl Low fans are probably giving up now...)


	9. Gathering

**"** **Gathering"**

* * *

The knocking that rang out on the door was rather rapid and insistent; indicating that whoever was behind it was struggling to contain their enthusiasm. Inspector Stein looked up from the table. However, his own calm demeanor didn't indicate whether or not he had detected the urgency in the knocking. Ky, on the other hand, standing nearby and still having his finger extended, gesturing to the point on the map spread out over Stein's desk of the entirety of the Schwarzwald, recognized it immediately.

"Come."

The door slid aside, revealing a lesser IPF officer. A younger one too by the looks of it. Ky needed only glance at him momentarily and his insignias to recognize that he was one of the communication's crew. He clenched a few papers in one hand almost to the point of wrinkling them. He rushed into the room and halted a few feet from the door, just enough for it to shut. Once there, he quickly, almost absent-mindedly, gave the customary salute. Stein and Ky both returned it, with the latter of the two straightening up to full attention as he did so.

"Sirs…we've found something."

Ky felt a stirring within himself. Finally…some news. Of course, it might have had nothing to do with the Gear. Since he had been emergency redeploy here, there were now alerts going out concerning Millia Rage as well. He realized he'd be a bit disappointed if that ended up being the case.

"Report." The CO answered.

"As of 0531 hours, Berlin time, one of our more remote monitoring stations located in the internal village of Adalwolf managed to pick up a trace pulse of highly concentrated magical energy. It was diffuse and impossible to trace to a definite source, but based on the level the computers indicate with 97 percent certainty that the source had to be a class A magic in origin."

Both Stein and Ky turned and exchanging glances. The CO was rather stoic, although he did register some change in emotion. Ky found it impossible to read him, but he knew what it had to be. At least one of the culprits responsible for the bloodbath in Hildebrant had revealed itself. His momentary disappointment from a moment earlier vanished. However, he showed none of this, remaining perfectly calm and controlled.

After a moment, both turned back to the officer.

"You said you weren't able to trace to a definite source." Stein responded.

The officer nodded. "Yes sir. Those at the site believe the source was doing reconnaissance. Checking to see how close we were. They believe it must have somehow realized we already had monitoring equipment up in place, and once it detected that it retreated. However, we were able to get a partial trace." Here, the officer held up the papers.

"Bring them here."

The officer immediately complied, approaching the CO and captain and extending his hand to offer the papers. Stein took them, but did so in such a way that Ky was able to get a good look at them. They ended up being a printout of an area of map, complete with coordinates. A zone on it was highlighted in red, indicating the potential area in which the source could be located. Stein looked at these a moment before lowering the sheets and placing them adjacent to the map. Once he did so, he took up a writing utensil from the desk and looked between the paper and the main map, before reaching over and beginning to sketch on it, copying the location.

Ky saw him work, and as he did he quickly looked over the coordinates himself. He didn't like what he saw. A partial trace was right… The area they had the source pegged down to was ten by twenty miles. Much smaller than the whole of the Schwarzwald, but a nightmare to try and search, especially in the thickness of the magical forest. At any rate, he made sure to quickly memorize the coordinates before the sketch was complete. He already had a mental map long before Stein was finished.

Once the sketch was done, Stein leaned back slightly, looking over the zone. Slowly, he exhaled. He turned and looked to Ky.

"That's a lot of ground to cover." He said quietly. "Any suggestions, captain?"

Ky hesitated momentarily. "…Technically, I'm assigned to the case involving Millia Rage."

Stein hesitated, seeming to think it over. However, he frowned and shook his head. "That may be so…but I don't have the experience of hunting Gears over an open area or trying to flush one out or ambush one. I know that you do. I'm bringing you in on this as a consultant. If HQ has a problem with that…it will take hours to clear up the red tape. More than enough time to have an operation underway."

Ky, surprisingly, felt a bit more excitement enter his heart on hearing that. There was a time, not too long ago, when he would have frowned at the breach of convention and authority. He was a stickler for the rules and command, after all. Yet in this case, he found himself strangely happy… Once again, however, he didn't show it. Only the faintest trace of a smile passed over his lips. He looked at the map for a few seconds, thinking over the situation.

"How many IPF personnel do we have patrolling the west side of the Schwarzwald?"

Stein gave a frown and a head shake. "Not many. We've only managed to deploy about one hundred and fifty."

That wasn't enough. "How many are still in stand-by in Berlin?"

"Close to six hundred."

Ky nodded. "That's better." He leaned back down over the map once again. Seeing this move, Stein leaned in as well and watched him carefully. The captain traced his finger out to the highlighted area. "Alright…we have three IPF air carriers stationed in Berlin at the moment. We should load up the six hundred on those…two hundred to a carrier. If this was the Crusades, I would fly around in a rather wide swath and deploy them…here…here…and here." Ky pointed out three separate locations on the map. "This ridge creates something of a barrier to the south…and this group takes the north. The other two spread out to the east and deploy. After that, I would pull half of the officers guarding the western half, including Hildebrant."

Stein's eyes widened slightly at that. "…Half?"

"An awful risk, I know. And I'm not too comfortable leaving that much area unguarded, especially with all of those bounty hunters to keep in line. No doubt, some of them will figure out what we're up to even if we keep such an operation a secret. With any luck, however, we will be at the forefront before they have a chance to move out. If not…" He paused here, and gave a sigh after a moment. "…Then we have no choice but to intercept and detain those that come in the range or path of the operation that they'll be carrying out…a flushing maneuver. The Gear will be driven into our waiting units and ambushed."

Stein thought over this all for a brief moment. He seemed hesitant on hearing Ky's request for that many officers, but he didn't dispute it. In the end, he gave a nod back to the captain.

Ky straightened up and formed a grim look. "Now, there are several things that could go wrong with this plan, despite the intervention of bounty hunters. As to that first dilemma, I would act in complete silence and only on coded channels. I would try to keep the redeployment as quiet as possible. So long as we move first, then it shouldn't matter so long as we ambush the Gear before any civilians do. The other problem is time. Even as we sit here, the Gear could be moving outside of this zone. If it recognized that we had picked up its energy signature, then it might have concluded that even this area is not safe and is moving. For that reason, I suggest that we begin implementing this strategy immediately. As we assemble and deploy the carriers from Berlin, we should send out the ground forces on the flushing maneuver. Based on how long it will take, they should reach the area by the time the carriers are deployed. That brings up another problem, however, what to do when the Gear is found. Only some of the officers have prior experience with Gears and aren't aware of their capabilities. Because of that, we need clearance on all of the most advanced weaponry the IPF has available. Every last piece of hand-held artillery should be implemented."

Stein frowned. "Such clearance will take time, even for an emergency order from me. This requires clearance from HQ."

"Then I would act quickly…starting right now."

Stein bowed his head and considered these things. Ky stood at the ready and waiting. In the end, however, Stein looked up and nodded again. He turned back to the communication's officer afterward.

"Send a message out to Companies B, D, F, and H. Tell them to make ready to redeploy and gather at Point Gamma. I'll send along further directions shortly. I think, given the circumstances, I should personally command the reserve redeployment, so I will pass along the message to them and begin to mobilize the carriers. Make sure to use only coded channels and try to keep this as quiet as possible, officer."

The man gave a nod and a salute after hearing this. After doing so, he turned and went back the way he came. An instant later, and the door slid shut again, leaving the two men alone in the chamber.

Stein turned to him a moment later in his chair, before he began to stand up.

"Well, captain, I'm only one officer, and I can't very well lead both halves of this operation personally. I'm once again asking you to overstep your bounds, and I'm certain that I shall catch some trouble from HQ because of this, but I wonder if you would like to take charge of the group at Point Gamma and lead them in the flushing maneuver? You certainly have the greater amount of experience regarding these things."

Ky was caught by surprise momentarily, and actually showed it as his mouth loosened a bit. He hadn't expected that. A consultant was one thing, but to be this firmly engrained was actually giving him command of one of the units. This pretty much flew up right in the face of the orders he had received. Forget bordering on insubordination, this was crossing the line. Had it been any other situation, Ky would have likely declined. In spite of a superior officer authorizing this and even volunteering to take the heat for it, he couldn't disobey HQ.

However, Ky found himself strangely unable to. He could have said it was due to his expertise. There was no question that he was the best member of the IPF for this job. It would be irresponsible to send anyone else on this mission. And so long as he was available, why not? And yet…

He thought again of Justice's words…and felt a secret desire inside himself.

The desire to reach that Gear before anyone else did…

Ky gave a salute. "I'd be honored, sir."

* * *

 _Well, it seems my intellect hasn't let me down yet…_

It had been an interesting couple of days since Anji had left the complex, although, he had to admit, the journey and experience was simultaneously both relaxing and invigorating. He was feeling alive for the first time in years; actually striking out on his own and pursuing something that was entirely of his own intention. However, in hindsight, he wished that he had the presence of mind to take something valuable from the colony with him that he was willing to part with. He could have bartered for some money. Despite how much he had tried to verse himself with common problems for the average person, he had neglected how important it was to have cash on hand to get from one place to another. He had considered the possibility of theft to remedy this problem but in the end voted against it. This soon into his freedom, he didn't want to become a criminal. Furthermore, he already would have enough people looking for him until he could get farther away from his colony. He didn't need any more. And so, he tried the next best thing: street performing. It was hardly a lucrative business, as he soon realized, but it did get him enough to get "on the road".

Getting to where he needed to go, however, was a different matter. He would have to cross an ocean to get to Germany and to the latest fixation for his curiosity. To that end, he soon applied his intellect to a new puzzle, successfully stowing away on an air carrier bound for Berlin. Street performing wouldn't have yielded enough cash to get him there legally in a month, and so he had little other choice. He spent a normal day simply standing by at the airfield and observing the comings and goings of the guards, the loaders, and the various other personnel. He knew only a little about aircraft himself, and unfortunately had little opportunity to learn more from a distance at this time. Nevertheless, he was able to piece together what he could see and knew to form a plan. One particular passenger carrier involved a large group of bounty hunters that was implementing a rather archaic, but nevertheless useful, strategy for tracking the Gear: bloodhounds. As a result, they needed a special cargo area on the aircraft that would be both pressurized and insulated, but nevertheless would not be subject to the same scrutiny as regular passenger craft. Seeing his opportunity, Anji moved in, evading the patrols and loaders that he had charted out the day before, and successfully stowed away.

His arrival in Germany started off a bit rough. He wasn't able to avoid the unloader who came in to get the dogs, and had no choice but to disable him. Yet once that was done, he found himself thwarted. The security at the airfield was far tighter than in the Americas. International Police Force officers were everywhere, monitoring everything that came and went from the tarmac. It seemed as if there was no safe way out of the airport. As a result, Anji was forced to implement rather drastic measures. While the passengers were still waiting to get off, he set a fire on board. After waiting as long as he dared for smoke buildup, he threw open the hatch to the passenger area, flooding it with noxious fumes and a screen of mist. Predictably, chaos erupted from the aircraft, and soon the passengers were scrambling to get out before they choked or were consumed by fire when the flames reached the fuel line. A storm of them flooded the checkpoint. And in the chaos, no one noticed that one other passenger had joined them.

Once off and in the terminal, and after the passengers had calmed down and had some sense of order, officers came by and began the arduous process of checking passports. On coming to Anji, however, he simply smiled and shrugged, saying he had left his aboard the now-burning plane. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough for the officers. They immediately took him up and began to lead him to the security portion of the terminal, intending to check his records to see if he had verified his passport when he had gotten on. Luckily for Anji, the terminal was crowded with bounty hunters and fortune seekers, most of them of a rather unsavory type. In the process of walking along, they came to a sizable crowd of rather rough-looking ones arguing with another IPF officer. As he passed by, it took very little effort on his part to lash out and give a swift kick to the back of the knee to one of the bigger ones, nearly making him collapse. On turning around and seeing more IPF officers and a thin prisoner walking along, the reaction was understandable. Taking a punch to the jaw and voluntarily dropping to the ground was a small price to pay to start a riot in the crowded hallway. In the ensuing chaos, Anji was able to slip out right through the front doors.

After that, he had made sure to keep a low profile. He wasn't sure if his picture had been taken but even if it wasn't he could have been wanted by both IPF and bounty hunters alike for leaving the colony back in the United States. Through hitchhiking, street performing, and occasionally stowing away on larger transports, he managed to work his way east, toward the Schwarzwald.

However, when he was nearly there, he paused momentarily and considered his actions. He soon realized that going to Hildebrant was suicide. There were simply too many bounty hunters and IPF members there, and he was too conspicuous to be able to keep a low profile. Not only that, but he realized that such would be a "bad place to start" in his quest for this Gear. He would be competing with hundreds…thousands for its attention. He had to think of a better way.

As a result, he ended up here. His intellect reasoned that rather than station himself in a village where everyone was gathering, right in the center of the action where the Gear had appeared initially, he should go further east; where the Gear had likely fled and where patrols from the IPF were lightest. Although he had no clues and no basis for believing this initially, his instincts hadn't led him astray yet. After a day or so longer of travel, he arrived in the village of Adalwolf. He found it most agreeable. The town was practically abandoned due to fears of the Gear, and only a relay post of IPF officers were located there, monitoring for signs of magical activity. Though they could sense Anji himself, the man only had to station himself just outside their range of scanning and be clear; although he initially learned about the nature of this scanner only through trial and error, and it was only due to him fleeing at the right time that he avoided capture. Luckily, this place was deep in the forest, unlike Hildebrant, and there were plenty of places to hide. Furthermore, he was able to map the changes in schedule and calibration of the device they were using, and was able to sneak into town during those periods and grab bits of food or supplies from the abandoned houses.

However, that time was over now.

Activity was starting up in the town. Although he couldn't see it that well from his hiding place in the forest, Anji was able to hear the sounds of engines firing up and heavy equipment being moved. On hearing all of the activity taking place, he thought he might risk venturing a bit closer to see what was going on, hopefully taking advantage of them neglecting the scanner. There wasn't any such luck. They were still manning it, even more intently this time. However, with the supposed lack of people around, he was fortunate that their commanding officer wasn't too quiet. He yelled out orders loud enough for Anji himself to hear, and in doing so happened to disclose where they were headed. Anji had no map and only a slight grasp of coordinates and how to read them, but he gathered enough to realize that they had found something on one of their scans, and were now moving with other officers to try and intercept it. There could be only one thing that they were interested in…the Gear.

With this many officers around, he doubted he had much chance of finding the Gear first. He could get ahead of these, as slow as they were moving. And the forest was so rough and uneven that they would never be able to move vehicles in, so he didn't have to worry about them overtaking him. Nevertheless, they had far more manpower. And he wasn't exactly sure where they were headed either. He knew only that whatever they found was somewhere nearby. However, nothing ventured was nothing gained. And he hadn't come this far just to turn back now. He was this close to the Gear. He had to try and seize the opportunity.

With that in mind, the man began to work his way around the encampment and headed for the edge leading deeper into the forest, making sure to stay out of range of their equipment. Once he was around, he would make his own way deeper into the interior, making sure to stay ahead of the police group. With any luck, he could use them to "drive" him forward, leading him on to where they were headed. That would at least get him in the correct vicinity. Even if they didn't, so long as he stayed somewhat near them, then he'd know he was in the right spot. Of course, that would only serve him for so long. He had a feeling he'd need to break off from them if he wanted to find this Gear first and not alert them when he did. On the plus side, it appeared he had a jump on them. An early start compared to the others in Hildebrant.

Anji kept his hands on the Zessen fans as he continued to move around the village, trying not to crunch any of the dead leaves gathering in the understory as he did so. He had a feeling, one way or another, he was in for some action today.

And the thought of that only made him feel more enthusiastic.

* * *

Millia figured that she had to be a fool. She should have known this was far too easy…far too simple. It wasn't as if she hadn't been baited before into doing things like this. And yet, in spite of all of that, she found herself still walking right into what could be the proverbial jaws of death.

The stolen Epee 7 hadn't served her very well for very long. She knew full well that these sorts of vehicles had tracking chips inside them. Her best bet was to go somewhere that was hopefully off the grid, so to speak, and then ditch it before that captain called in and had a fleet of officers on her tail. Normally, that meant she would have gone to the Schwarzwald area, which, being a large expanse of natural land, tended to be a little off the map for things such as that. Unfortunately, the place was flooded with IPF officers and bounty hunters alike; some of which, for all she knew, were assassins' guild members themselves. The best she could do was go about halfway before she totaled the bike, jumping off and using her hair as a cushion before it was driven into a stand of trees.

Since then, she had been forced to lie low. She had taken an awful risk by actually confronting the captain in the first place. It was unfortunate that so many officers were gathered there already. The mere memory of Gears made her ache somewhat inside, and after what had happened in London she had taken her fill of the things. She didn't care to ever cross paths with one, active or inactive, ever again. But that didn't change the fact that she was soon caught up in a net of officers and hunters that didn't share her sentiments. They seemed to be the only people who were in this side of Germany at the moment. With a bounty on her own head, that meant she had to be quiet. At her first opportunity, she had to work her way back west and get out of there.

As much as she could, she kept an ear open to what was going on. Not the officers, of course. She wasn't that stupid. But there were various other bounty hunter groups she could eavesdrop on; ones that she could tell, just from the looks of them, weren't assassin material. She had to be careful whenever they interacted with other groups, to be sure, and she had to keep her identity a secret. She had managed to accomplish that by donning a gray cloak and keeping her head covered at all times, making sure that no one saw her hair. She also tried not to speak, not giving away her Russian accent. Yet despite these difficulties, she managed to keep her ears open and looked for an opportunity for the IPF officers to move in on the Gear. When they did she realized the rest of their forces would be lax, and she would have a chance to escape back west.

That, however, was when she managed to catch the rumor.

A black, shadowy creature…seeming to be made of the substance itself…flying into the Schwarzwald…

Millia cursed her fortune when she first heard of it. At first, she refused to believe it. It couldn't be that simple…that easy. After all, the captain could have been right. He might be dead after all. In that case, she'd be chasing after a ghost and putting herself in too much danger to do so. Yet she couldn't let it go. If there was a chance that it was true then she couldn't pass it up. She realized she had to put herself in more danger to find out more. She had to talk with an assassins' guild member, and one fairly high on the totem pole. Luckily for her, she didn't have to go far. The guild had indeed taken an interest in the large bounty placed on this Gear, and several of the higher ups from Berlin were moving out, including one of the major coordinators. Familiar with how the guild moved from her years of service, it didn't take long for Millia to track this one down. With her skill, it was simple for her to catch him off guard and alone as well. She was a bit surprised at how easy it was, though. She thought a higher-level assassin would have been more prepared for the tables to turn on him. Yet that mattered little to her. What did was that he knew items of interest to her.

The word was still just on the level of rumor, but it was spreading like wildfire throughout the guild over the past few weeks. Apparently, it was dangerous to be talking about it, as it seemed Venom was going about personally squashing such rumors and it was suicide for anyone to be mentioning them publicly. Nevertheless, the story had reached the coordinator's ear, and his lips were a bit looser when one had hair spikes resting around his neck like a deadly collar, ready to sever his head from his body in a heartbeat. He told her how Zato-1's personal boat had indeed reached the shore…how the crew there had been mutilated…but there was no sign of Zato-1 himself. Based on how it had been done, there was little dispute as to what was the cause. That was all that Millia needed to know. Even though she hadn't seen the bodies herself, Zato-1's style was unmistakable…

Surprisingly, especially to herself, she had let the man live. There wasn't much point in killing him, she realized. If she did, then it would be obvious based on how he had died as to who had done it. Her own style was as unmistakable as Zato-1's. Either way, any assassins that came into that office would have known that Millia Rage was there. As far as what he knew, all he could tell anyone was what everyone already knew: that she was out for Zato-1. In other words, she couldn't hide anything from anyone by offing the coordinator. All she could do was give him the most strongly worded threat she was capable of, hoping it would make him silent. Nevertheless, she got out of the area fast afterward…and from that point on acted as though everyone knew that Millia Rage was in town.

However, she now had a new dilemma. Zato-1 was nearby. He was in the Schwarzwald. Millia had no idea why although she did have a theory. The last thing he had done that she was aware of was go after that Gear back in London, or at least went under that assumption while trying to lure Millia out. She wasn't sure what sort of brain that Eddie possessed, but if it was true, if he really had fallen under control of that thing (which seemed increasingly likely, based both on what the captain said as well as what the coordinator said about how the crew had been senselessly mutilated), then perhaps its last coherent thought was that it needed to find a Gear. That could have drawn it to this place. It wasn't much to go on. Millia wouldn't claim she knew everything about Eddie but it was the only thing she had.

With that in mind, here she was.

A duffel bag with the basic necessities of food and camping equipment was slung over one shoulder as the assassin walked into the interior of the Schwarzwald, stepping lightly and quite silently over the dead leaf material that covered the floor. She tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible. She wasn't in the clear yet. The forest edge was still well within audio range and even visual in the more open parts, and she could hear the occasional sound of arguing or yelling coming from there. It wouldn't be until she had gone another mile or so into the Schwarzwald that she would be able to relax somewhat. And at her current speed, that would take some time.

Getting in had been simple enough. The IPF maintained a pretty solid barrier around this half of the forest. No normal bounty hunter or civilian could hope to get through unless they journeyed for miles around the perimeter to where the security measures were more sparse and there were more holes in the defenses. However, Millia had no time for that and she had a feeling that those areas were exactly where members of the assassin's guild would hope that she would go. And so, she had broken in closer to where the "action" was, where crowds of people, faces, and noise would provide some cover for her in order to break in. As for the IPF countermeasures, Millia had developed her ways of getting around such things for years. Any good assassin did. She wouldn't be surprised if the members of the assassins' guild had already been scouting out the forest for at least a week right alongside the IPF, searching for that Gear.

At any rate, that was no concern to her. Only Zato-1 was. And now that she was inside, she'd be able to begin her own search for him.

 _Come to think of it…_ Millia thought to herself as she walked along. _Perhaps I should be paying more attention to that Gear. If that's what led Eddie to come here, then perhaps that's something that I can use for bait myself. It would certainly be easier to find than Zato-1, as there will probably be far more eyes looking for it than him… A little bit of spying or eavesdropping would be all I would need in order to find out what progress they're making with it. And if not, there's always coercion…_

 _Crick._

Millia froze and snapped her head around to the source of the sudden noise. She found herself looking up into the dense canopy overhead. Despite her self-control, two locks of golden blond hair rolled out from underneath her hood and strung themselves across her torso; going into the ready position. The woman remained in that position for a few moments, looking up into the leafy branches and not moving a muscle.

The assassin had definitely heard something. Not much, but you didn't make it long as an assassin and not respond to every out of place noise. One of the branches had given a creak. To a normal passerby, it wasn't much to worry about. After all, this was a mature forest. You would expect some of the trees to groan in the passing breeze and indicate some sort of stress or strain. However, Millia didn't buy it. She continued to look into the branches and searched them.

Nothing presented itself. No signs of any life. No more noise. Everything was still. Another breeze came by after a moment. When it did, another _crick_ went out. Not as strong as the first one she heard, but it was one none the less. Everything went silent again afterward.

Millia finally turned away again. However, her hair remained extended across her torso. Her look had grown colder. She spent no more time idly thinking, and her pace quickened as she moved deeper into the Schwarzwald.

* * *

"I don't know anything."

"Oh yeah? 500 says differently."

"Look man…I've got to get going."

"1,000 says you know something."

"We've got an operation. I've got to get to assembly."

"What operation? 2,000 really wants to know…"

"…Well…now that you mention it…I think I am starting to remember something…"

"Like what?"

"I only said I'm starting to remember it…"

"Hmm…alright. Does 5,000 help your memory?"

"…"

"5,000, officer. That's a hell of a lot more than you're ever going to see when the IPF takes that bounty for themselves."

"Alright. They think we spotted a signal trace."

"Where?"

"It's about thirty to forty miles away. Near this other village called Adalwolf. They've only got it pegged down to a general area south of there. We're supposed to be leading this big operation to try and flush it out into this other group. So you see, it doesn't really matter. We've got carriers coming in already. We're moving out right now. We'll get there long before anyone else can."

"We'll see about that. Here you go. Get drunk on me."

"…Don't tell anyone I told you this."

"Of course, officer."

The two voices went silent after this. There was the sound of some movement, obviously both of them walking away. Moments afterward, Jam saw the officer suddenly walk out from around the corner. He quickly gave a glance in either direction, but was so hurried about it that he didn't notice her or any of the other people seated nearby, it seemed. Either that, or he didn't care. He was probably more concerned with looking to see if other IPF members had overheard what had just transpired. He soon rushed off afterward for the east part of Hildebrant, patting a wad that had mysteriously placed itself in his back pocket since he had gone into the alley.

Jam, at any rate, didn't notice most of that. She was still too excited about what she had managed to overhear. More than ever now did she believe providence was on her side. First there was the incident of her being fired…then the dry cleaner scuffle…and now this. Everything was pointing her in the right direction…guiding her to her one destiny… The restaurant seemed more in her grasp than ever before.

Much as she had thought, it had taken every last cent she had to get this far. Flights to Berlin were not cheap, and once she arrived, it cost more in order to secure some transportation out to the edge of the Schwarzwald. After that, it cost the remainder to secure her own supply of food and a bedroll to sleep on. Nevertheless, she happily gave what she had. She had learned a bit more since the dry cleaners, namely where it was located and some of the details about how dangerous it was, but nothing dissuaded her from her goal of getting to the Gear first and securing the bounty. That thought continued to push her on all the way to Hildebrant.

On arrival, however, she was a bit more dismayed. There were a lot of people already there and more continued to arrive the longer she stayed. A lot of them looked much larger and stronger than her as well, and many of them were in groups that were well armed with weapons she didn't even know existed. She wouldn't have stayed with them or in town, preferring to go right into the forest and begin her search. However, she soon discovered, despite the bounty having being placed, the IPF had the perimeter to the woods sealed up tight. They were trying hard to keep any civilians from getting in and messing things up, it seemed. She had tried on three separate occasions to sneak in, only to be intercepted and turned back by the IPF. As time went by, Jam began to realize that they weren't going to let anyone into the woods. The cook didn't really care for their reasons for it, even if it was to keep civilians from getting hurt or out of danger. She only knew that they weren't letting her in, and that was frustrating. She had come this far only to get stopped now by the authorities.

Yet Jam began to realize other things as the days passed. Even if she could get in, if the authorities decided to break the barrier around the forest and let the bounty hunters come, what then? She realized there were thousands gathered there already. Her odds of finding the Gear before any of them did were slim to none. And some of them were so well-armed that they'd probably be able to disable it much faster than she could. Even then, the longer she stayed out there waiting, the more likely that the Gear would be found by the IPF before any of them had a chance to begin with. This was no good. She had no idea where to look and no way in. Something had to change.

Jam had been close to wondering if this was really her destiny after all when she happened to take a rest right here at the corner leading to one particular shady alley of Hildebrant to take a load off. It was then when she saw the one officer walk by and saw a hand shoot out of the alley, take him by the arm, and pull him inside. Moments later, she managed to catch this little conversation.

Now, armed with this new knowledge, Jam began to rise again. She took a look around up and down the streets. Sure enough, like the man had said, there must have been an operation going on. The normal IPF officers that had taken up patrolling the roads and keeping the bounty hunters and fortune seekers in line had disappeared. Security was becoming more lax. Perhaps, just maybe, that extended to the barriers around the forest as well. If so then maybe she had a chance.

Jam realized she had to try. It had been fortune that she had just heard this scrap of information. She now had an idea of where to look. With that in mind, the cook bent down to grab a backpack holding her few belongings and made ready to try just one more time to break the perimeter…

* * *

 _"_ _Captain?"_

The voice over the intercom caught the attention of everyone on the bridge: April, May, and Johnny. Johnny soon moved over to the console with May following behind, taking a position next to the communication's array but leaving it open enough for Johnny to slide in front. He flicked a switch against the board to activate his own microphone.

"I read you, Novel. Did you find something?"

 _"_ _Yes sir. International Police Force stations are still quiet. In fact, some of them have been encoded for the past two hours. But they evidently aren't being quiet enough and I think I know why they've gone so silent."_

Johnny formed half a smile. "You're keeping me in suspense, Novel. Just spill it."

 _"_ _The bounty hunters aren't taking nearly so many safety measures. And it looks like we aren't the only ones spying on them either. There's a lot of interrelated communication's channel monitoring. Anyway, like you said…here it is. A magical signal has been picked up south of Adalwolf. They think it's the Gear. Now the IPF is mobilizing-getting ready to conduct a major operation on the area."_

"Any idea of what area?"

 _"_ _Luckily, the IPF is not being nearly so quiet about where they're redirecting personnel, just what reason they're doing it for. They're still maintaining silence, but I managed to pick up a few loose transmissions. I've got a set of coordinates."_

Johnny gave a nod and widened his smile. "Great job as always, Novel. Relay the coordinates to June and have her start plotting them. Send the destination straight up to April. We'll be departing immediately. Johnny out."

A switch on the console was thrown, ending the transmission. Johnny straightened up and looked over to April. She was still manning the helm, but she kept an eye on Johnny during the entire exchange.

"Think you can get us in there, April?"

The girl paused momentarily, blinking, but then gave a shrug. "I'm not sure where exactly we need to go just yet, but if it's over Adalwolf, there's not as much IPF activity there. If they're launching an operation, they'll probably move air carriers in there. I won't be able to keep the May Ship that much of a secret in that case…"

"Well then…it's a very good thing that you'll just be dropping us off then."

Now, it was May's turn to look to Johnny in surprise. April looked rather stunned as well. As for the captain, he inhaled deeply and let out a sigh, raising a hand and pushing his sunglasses harder against the bridge of his nose. He leaned a bit against the console.

"I know I said we'd establish a perimeter and try landing…but it seems the game has changed. I can't risk the May Ship getting spotted. We'll just have to drop in there and go from there. We'll get an extraction once we've found the Gear and done what we were supposed to do."

"That's pretty dangerous…" April answered uneasily.

"Landing the ship is pretty dangerous for the whole crew, and it's not a risk I'm willing to take." Johnny simply answered. "As for what's on the ground…" He paused, and then turned to May. "May and I can handle anything. Isn't that right?"

May blinked back at Johnny and recoiled slightly. In truth, she wasn't thinking about danger to herself from this sudden change in plans, although one would think that she would have more than enough reason to. She was thinking more along the lines of danger to Johnny. Even though he was the superior fighter, she couldn't hide the fact that she was worried for his well-being. After all, he had been captured once already in the past few months. But even if that wasn't the case, the thought of Johnny going in without the team to back him up against a Gear made the girl nervous.

"Well…if that's what you want, Johnny…but there's going to be more than that Gear to worry about down there. What about the IPF? If they're conducting a major operation, that means they'll be swarming all over-"

He merely gave a snicker and waved his hand, cutting her off. "I don't think we'll have to worry much about them. Didn't you hear what Novel said? Word of the Gear is spreading among the bounty hunter camps."

May gave a shrug. "Well, yeah, but-"

"That means that soon they'll all know about where the Gear is. They'll have their first real concept of where to find it in days, and they won't have to search the whole of the Schwarzwald."

"I guess so… But-"

On hearing her protest, Johnny's smile waned. He sighed and shook his head. "May, May, May… You've got to understand human nature a bit better. Everyone down there wants a piece of this bounty. They've been practically drooling over it for days now. With this little juicy tidbit of information, their appetites will be insatiable. The lowering of the IPF guard to conduct this operation is just the icing on the cake. Within an hour, I'd wager, there's going to be a riot in Hildebrant. Those bounty hunters will break the line and flood the Schwarzwald. Soon, the IPF officers are going to have their hands full trying to get the operation underway as well as corralling them. In the process of them trying to get out to the site and battling one another, a duo with a ship could easily slip in and carry out their own little operation, wouldn't you say?"

May paused. She realized that it made sense. This served to allay some of her fears, but not all of them. After a moment, she began to protest again. "But Johnny…"

Yet she cut herself off a moment later, this time not needing any prompting from Johnny. At least, nothing vocal. The man had stepped over to her and had placed a hand on her shoulder. On feeling his touch against her, despite the presence of clothing blocking direct skin-to-skin contact, May froze once again. She felt a tremor move through her, and suddenly felt weak-kneed and watery. A warm feeling crept down her shoulders and through her chest, all the way down into her stomach. She was rendered dumb and totally transfixed on looking at Johnny's own face as he smiled down on her.

"Don't worry. Everything will be just fine. We've always been unstoppable working together. We'll get through this without a hitch. I promise."

May stared back at him, barely able to understand and comprehend the words. She was turning red from Johnny being so close to her and having reached out and touched her without prompting for a change. There was Johnny…tall, strong, and heroic as always. Looking like he could take on the world with one hand tied behind his back. There was the Johnny they all admired, respected, and followed to the death. Most of all, there was the Johnny that May was captivated with…

On sensing all this, calmness and relief slowly began to flow into May. The dangers that the IPF, bounty hunters, and even the Gear represented seemed to disappear. And with it came the memory of why she was doing this in the first place…what she had made sure she would accomplish no matter the cost. She had to get that bounty. That was all that mattered.

After a bit longer, May finally made a fist and pumped it in front of her, as her smile turned into a dangerous look.

"Alright…let's do it!"

* * *

"You're absolutely sure that you saw her?"

 _"_ _I was a little thrown off at first…but when she turned to see me, I saw her hair unroll itself from beneath that hood she was wearing. It's her all right."_

"I'm a bit put off…" Venom answered, shifting his position to cross his arms and rest the phone a bit more firmly against his head. "Rage isn't stupid. And she knows when she's being watched."

 _"_ _Heh, that may be so…but even a high level assassin never sees Tristan the Invisible."_

"Really?" Venom calmly answered. "Then how come you didn't take the opportunity to strike?"

 _"_ _Because I'm not stupid either. Watching a target from a good distance is one thing. Actually trying to hit them is another."_

"Now you _are_ certain. I'm about to bring a whole new dimension of hell down on this town and I don't want to do it for nothing."

 _"_ _It's her, alright? I'm not mistaken."_

"…Fine, I'll take your word for it. Which way is she going?"

 _"_ _East by northeast. Based on the direction…I'd say she's about a mile south of Hildebrant."_

"Good. Get ready to move out."

Venom shut the phone up and quickly maneuvered it to go into an inner pocket in his white coat. Once he had it secure, he stepped his way through the room he was currently in to the nearby window, meaning to take a look outside at the developing situation before he made his next move.

Venom had arrived in Hildebrant just two days ago, although he had managed to raise several others in Germany and make sure that they got there ahead of him prior to his arrival to begin the stakeout for Millia Rage. Accommodations in the town had been, naturally, hard to come by when he got there. And in a small town like that, it was of course ridiculous to assume that there would be safe houses for members of the assassins' guild. However, what _was_ there were numerous abandoned buildings that had been forcefully evacuated on the arrival of the IPF. Already, numerous, more unscrupulous bounty hunters were snatching up the larger buildings for their own personal use, especially since the roads were overcrowded with new arrivals. One of the assassins that Venom had sent on ahead had managed to secure a two story storage warehouse for lumber. The lower floors were mostly just storage areas, open and wide with lots of room, but the upper portions housed living quarters. Not being one to wink at circumstances, and able to abide living in a bit more squalor than lesser assassins, Venom took it. Since then, the place had become their base of operations.

There were nearly four dozen assassins mingled in with the rest of the people of Hildebrant at this time. Venom had wished that there would have been at least a hundred…but this was testament to the fact that his authority was slipping. He wasn't the leader like Zato-1 and he couldn't maintain control like him either. He could regrettably say that this four dozen might very well have been the only ones loyal to him at this point. Unfortunately, it would have to do. He put them to work as soon as he got there, having them scout out the surrounding perimeter, keep an eye on those who came and went from the town, and even stationed a few inside the woods themselves in case Rage managed to slip through the gaze of all the others. As it turned out, it seemed that such had been a good idea on his part. Only one in the interior, toward the edge of Venom's watch, had managed to pick up on her.

Yet now that she was there the real excitement would begin.

There were curtains in front of this window, and thick ones at that. That had been Venom's intention. It wouldn't pay to have some snooping IPF officer or bounty hunter look through and see a fugitive or two. Reaching out with a gloved hand, he gently pulled it to one side, enabling enough room for him to look out to the ground below. This warehouse was more than a good place to shove a lot of people, he had realized. It was also a good stakeout location. He could see down the main drag of the city all the way toward the perimeter of the forest, right at one of the main roadblocks of the IPF. It was here now that he found his attention directed.

It seemed the situation was getting worse out there. His concern was Millia Rage, but even he had heard the rumors now circulating throughout the city that the Gear had been located. Since then, the crowds within Hildebrant were getting whipped up into a frenzy. It started off calmly enough, with the word spreading and a few groups gathering. But then, one of the larger groups had gone up to the barricade and wanted to be allowed inside, saying things along the line of "they shouldn't have posted the bounty if they didn't want us risking our necks". The police were able to keep these ones away but soon another group joined them. And another after that. Now, on the latest view, Venom saw that a mob was quickly forming in front of the barricade. Half the town…perhaps more…were now gathered there. They were all armed and packed, ready obviously to begin the hunt at long last. He could see they were pressing in on the officers now, and it didn't help the IPF one bit that several of them had broken off recently, perhaps due to there being truth to the Gear having been sighted. It was clear that there was going to be blood soon…or breaking of the perimeter. For the sake of the IPF, it would be better to be breaking. Better to let them pass than let themselves get mowed down by the more immoral hunters out there.

However, this situation only worked out for Venom. Now they wouldn't have to risk sneaking in. They could simply stroll right inside the Schwarzwald and after Rage. The barricade would fall. It might take another thirty minutes but no longer than that. The mob would see to that. After that, the forest would be fully open. It seemed as if Rage's timing couldn't be better…for him.

The curtain was allowed to fall. Venom turned and walked over to a nearby simple wooden table. Placed on top of it, far more elaborate, black, and sophisticated, was a long case. He undid the dual latches, and flipped the case open. He reached inside and came out a moment later with both halves of his custom pool cue. He quickly slipped one over the top of the other and began to rotate, screwing the two halves together.

He looked up to the back of the room. Three assassins stood there obediently, awaiting the next order.

"We're moving out."

* * *

"…Alright, we've seen enough."

Without another word besides that, Sol rose from his position, removing his binoculars and returning them to his side, turned, and began to walk down the road. Chipp, standing at a distance until this point, was a bit taken aback at the sudden change. He looked to Sol momentarily, back to the object of interest that they had been staring at, and then back to Sol again. Only after doing that did he take off after the man. Despite the fact that Sol seemed to be calmly walking, Chipp had to break into a jog to initially catch up with him.

The past two days hadn't been as eventful as the ninja thought they would be. He expected at the least that they would be charging straight into the forest at first, going through it searching for signs of the Gear. At best, he had hoped that Sol already had a plan. Chipp assumed that much based on what he picked up after spending only a day on the edge of the Schwarzwald. It didn't take long to see that the entire forest was under lockdown. The IPF were everywhere and had deployed scanning devices around the entire perimeter for as much as Chipp could see. There was no way of going in or out without being detected. However, based on what Sol had said, the bounty hunter had to have gotten in at least once to check out the site where the Gear had escaped. He suspected that he would lead him in again, and they would begin their search.

Instead, Sol had only had him walk with him around the perimeter of the forest for a few miles, looking at the various outposts that the IPF had established, before sending him right back to Hildebrant. He told him to keep his eyes and ears open there for any sort of change, and to head back out for the campsite at sundown or earlier if he picked up anything. Chipp was more than a little displeased with this "assignment". Not only did he think that there was little utility in staking out Hildebrant, he began to wonder if Sol was just using this as an excuse to ditch him. It didn't help that he still didn't have 100 percent trust in Sol after the beating he had gotten back in London, but perhaps it was for that very reason, knowing that he couldn't exactly compel Sol to do anything different, that he agreed to it.

Nevertheless, it was a dull assignment. Aside from the fact that more bounty hunters arrived and things grew tenser within the city, Chipp picked up little. He had no idea what Sol did while he was there. The first day, he had feared that he simply went off and left him, continuing his search on his own terms. However, when sundown came, and he returned to the campsite, he found him calmly waiting for him, looking no more strained or worse for wear. That did little to ease Chipp's chagrin, though. Now he got the notion in his head that Sol was actually spending all his time back at the camp, letting the ninja do all the work for him in town. This was only reinforced for him when Sol had nothing new to report after whatever activities he had been doing that day. When the next day came and went, following a similar course as the first, Chipp began to wonder if what they were doing had any purpose at all to it, and figured they were just wasting time.

However, on this morning, that had changed. Chipp had come to town just as he had on the previous two days, expecting to see more bounty hunters and officers but little else. Instead, while he was still a ways off, he began to hear the sounds of commotion. It only grew louder as he neared the village, both from him coming closer to the source of the noise as well as an overall increase in volume. He soon began to make out the sounds of arguing. Vehicles began to come down the road…trucks belonging to the IPF. They were carrying numerous police officers heavily armed and taking them away from Hildebrant. Noticing all this, the ninja soon broke into a run and ran the rest of the way to the town to see what was happening.

He didn't stay long, and he didn't need to. The village was erupting into chaos. Although it was impossible to get anything through direct questioning, the rumors were circulating among everyone at that point. There was word that the Gear had been detected south of another village to the east called Adalwolf. With the target of the bounty actually pegged to a reasonably small location, everyone was wanting a piece of it. The bounty hunters weren't content to just sit on the sidelines anymore. They were mounting up and going to the barricade, demanding to be let inside. They were getting rather violent as well, no longer taking no for an answer. The fact that the IPF guard had gotten lax, due to many of them being redirected to, no doubt, target the Gear themselves, only made it easier on them.

Deciding that this was enough of "something", Chipp had left the town and headed back. Even as he did, he heard the first sounds of scuffling begin at the barricade. Sounds of blows being traded. He left before he could hear anything else, such as weapons being implemented, but he had a feeling it would come to that next…

As it turned out, he only made it about a quarter mile back down the road, not even out of view of the city streets and some of its populace, when he was intercepted by Sol himself. Chipp was caught a bit off guard by that. Although he was certain he'd be out of audio and visual range, the man almost seemed to know that something was up in town. In the end, Chipp reasoned that he had to have seen the passing cars and trucks heading out, and that must have alerted him. The ninja quickly told him what was happening in Hildebrant. Yet Sol had paused after that, taking out the pair of binoculars and kneeling down closer to the road to steady himself before looking back to the town Chipp had just left. He had observed it for a solid minute. As he did, Chipp heard the sounds of bullets firing echoing in the distance. There was more crying out and soon the figures began to thin out on the horizon. As to what the cause was exactly he had no idea. Sol was the only one with binoculars, and he didn't seem too eager to share.

Chipp still had no answers as he caught up with the man and fell in behind him. Yet Sol showed no signs of stopping or explaining. He continued to walk down the road, heading for a nearby bend in the dirt pathway just ahead that went around a stand of trees.

"So…what did you see?"

"The blockade is finished." Sol responded without turning or halting. "They're overrunning it right now. If any of those IPF officers try to stand in their way, they'll be beaten down or killed. Within an hour, this portion of the Schwarzwald will be overrun with people searching for the Gear."

Chipp walked on for a moment afterward, thinking that over. He shrugged. "Well, that doesn't really help them that much. The Gear is miles away from here, south of Adalwolf."

"That's why the smarter ones will soon be taking to the road and driving around to that village." Sol answered. "Then they'll overrun the outposts that are there. Right now, this is mostly the result of mob mentality. The larger groups, however, will soon act in ways that are more coordinated. They'll notice the same thing I noticed, and the same reason I came here to meet up with you. The IPF forces are on the move. They're going to be conducting a major operation in that area you described to try and intercept the Gear. However, it won't be long before other bounty hunter groups realize what is a better course of action and will flood the area. The IPF will have no choice but to either break off the operation and intercept them, or try to utilize them in their effort. I won't presume to know exactly what the IPF is planning, but if this was the Crusades…then it would likely be a classic attempt of trying to flush the Gear into an ambush. They'll likely incorporate the incoming bounty hunters into doing that if they're being led by someone ruthless."

Chipp crooked his eyebrow a bit. "What do you mean by 'someone ruthless'?"

"Someone who wouldn't care whether they lived or died. These are bounty hunters and mercenaries…not members of the Sacred Order. If they let them attack, they might as well sentence them to death. The Gear that's assisting the fugitive killed dozens without them able to put up much, if any, resistance. I saw that well enough for myself when I investigated the site. Without a definite plan or strategy, especially considering the fact they're walking right into a zone that the Gear already knows, they'll be sheep for the slaughter. It wasn't just for the sake of saving world dollars that the IPF prohibited people from entering this forest. Those in command knew full well that this wasn't a job for civilians or even ones with moderate skill. They were trying to save lives."

The ninja gave something of a frown. It didn't fill him with a whole lot of confidence. After all, he had already received a violent beating from a Gear himself. And now that things seemed to be boiling down to the true essence of the matter, those memories began to come back. He slowly began to realize that he might not be of the best standing to handle this Gear, especially not after what had happened last time. Yet he pushed that away. He'd just have to be smarter…rely more on his skills…this time around.

"So what are _we_ doing?"

"The same as everyone else. We're going after the Gear right now. We have a reasonable location in which to search."

Sol rounded the corner, and soon vanished on the other side of the stand of trees. Chipp stayed after him and soon turned around the stand himself. However, when he reached the other side, he came to a pause for a moment and looked ahead to what ended up being hidden behind those trees, just off the side of the road and against a particularly thick one.

It was a motorcycle. Not a very new one, and certainly not one of the armored personal transports that the IPF utilized. But it was a good one none the less. Chipp didn't know too much about mechanics, but if he had he would have seen that, despite an initial appearance of being a bit dirty and haggard, the bike had been kept in good condition and serviced frequently. It was painted in red in certain key places, but for the most part was regular black metal. It was of the style that people in earlier decades had called a "hog", with the handlebars extending on long shafts of metal to a wheel that was pronounced in front of it. He did notice that the tires were fairly new and were of the kind designed to go on rough roads…even off road.

Sol seized the handlebars and began to pull it out and away from the tree. Surprisingly, despite the size and apparent weight of the machine, he moved it easily. Once he had it a distance from the stand of trees and onto the dirt road, he reached behind him and pulled out his own weapon from his back. Chipp had noticed that he had a sword on him several times at this point, whenever they went out for the day. However, he always kept it wrapped in heavy cloth bandages, and so he was unable to see its true nature. All he knew was that he remembered back to their first fight, how Sol had never even bothered drawing the weapon on him. At any rate, once it was out, he inserted it into a custom metal holster on the side of the motorcycle, right next to where his legs would sling across. After doing so, he straddled the machine himself and adjusted his position.

That done, he hesitated momentarily, but then turned his head behind him and looked to Chipp. He showed no other emotion and said nothing else.

Chipp himself stared back momentarily until he realized what his intention was. There was ample room on the back of the motorcycle for another passenger. However, that didn't aid Chipp's anxiety about it. The ninja frowned slightly and looked from side to side, as if he might see someone eavesdropping. There was no one there, though, and after a few moments, Chipp realized it was either this or be left behind. Grudgingly, he finally let out a sigh and stepped forward to the motorcycle. With extreme reluctance, he straddled the back of it and got onto the seat as well. However, he kept himself as far away from Sol as possible, wide enough to cross his arms, if he wanted.

"You should hold on."

"I think I practiced Tsuyoshi's balance techniques enough to be able to handle wherever we're going…" Chipp half-muttered aloud.

"…Suit yourself." He turned the ignition. With little effort, the engine roared to life.

"One thing." Chipp called out over the purr of the vehicle, almost shouting. "By now, they've got to have a lot of officers over in Adalwolf. Some of the bounty hunters might have radioed ahead to their partners and have them heading there too. They're probably blockading the road, and once we get through that, we'll have to deal with a mess of them to get to the area. So how are we going to get around all those guys?"

"We're not taking the road."

Chipp furrowed his brow. "Then how are we going to-"

That was all that Chipp was able to get off…before, like a deranged madman, Sol gunned the engine up to full and plunged it straight into the forest, with all the dips, ravines, trees, rocks, roots, and other obstacles rising up out of the magical wood to meet them as he entered.

In spite of himself, Chipp was reaching out to grab Sol's waist within fifteen seconds.

* * *

The ronin took one more step in the ravine before she suddenly halted. She turned her head to the sky. Her one good eye scanned the canopy blankly, not really focusing on that. There wasn't much to see there anyway. This deep in the forest, even in fall, with leaves fluttering down and dying against the forest floor, it lived up to its namesake. It was dark…almost opaque, leaving nothing growing on the forest floor at all, not even saplings. However, this was lost on her. Her senses had turned to her hearing, and she was using it now to scan her surroundings. For the most part, all that greeted her was silence. A few birds chirping…maybe the sound of a tree branch creaking or groaning…a rush of leaves from a breeze, carrying more off of their limbs and to the forest floor…but other than that the silent emptiness of the Schwarzwald.

Yet faintly, far behind her, deeper into places she had already left…she thought she heard just the faintest sound of gunshots carried on the breeze.

She stared indifferently up at the canopy a moment longer, but then looked back down and continued.

Her pace quickened.

* * *

Miles away from any human contact, in a small clearing, a pale white hand rested on another's shoulder.

"No matter what happens…they shall not touch you again."

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	10. Convergence

**"** **Convergence"**

* * *

 _They couldn't keep them at bay for just one day longer…_

Ky sighed to himself as he heard the latest report over his personal radio. It was of the more sophisticated variety, encompassing only a simple earpiece headset. Although this area of the world wasn't well "networked", the various relays that the IPF had set up acted also as a signal pathway that enabled fairly advanced communication among their group. At the moment, he was on board one of the IPF armored transports, crowded together with thirty other heavily armed officers in the back portion separated from the drivers. They were in motion although, with modern magical technology on this advanced of a system, one would hardly know it. They were moving along so smoothly that even the bumpiness and roughness of the dirt road that they had transitioned to was lost on the occupants, and at a clip so rapid one would think it impossible for a country road in the past century.

Unfortunately, this wasn't nearly fast enough for Ky anymore. He looked to his timepiece to check how they were doing, and to his disappointment realized they still had forty more minutes before they even arrived at the unloading grounds at Point Gamma. It would still take hours after that to be able to move everyone into position to begin the operation.

Based on what he had just heard, they no longer had the luxury of time. Ky had hoped that they could have at least deployed before the groups massing around the Schwarzwald could react, but fate was not so kind. In addition to the bounty hunters picking up on the redeployment of IPF officers, somehow the information had been leaked about the operation itself. It had to either be a breach of security or bribery to blame. In either case, the groups had seized on the opportunity, and had completely broken the barricade in Hildebrant. Those ones weren't too much of a concern, though. It would take them days to hike to the location of the operation. Corralling them in the days that followed would be far more of a pain, but it was one that could be put off. No…the real problem was that they were getting word of additional breaches in two different locations much closer to the operation site, as well as words of gangs of bounty hunters moving out in vehicles. There was even a rumor of an airship having been spotted that wasn't IPF designation. They'd be far more problematic.

However, there was nothing for it. He could pass the information along to Inspector Stein, but other than that they had to proceed. At this point, it was now imperative that they reached the Gear first and got the operation underway before they were so swamped with bounty hunters to detain that they wouldn't have any force left to engage in the flushing maneuver. Once the civilians arrived, it would become Ky's priority to secure them and make sure that the Gear, or Gears, didn't cut them down as easily as the people from Hildebrant. But if they could just neutralize the Gear before this had a chance of happening, then maybe it wouldn't be necessary. This operation had now turned into a race.

With that in mind, Ky spoke again into his headset.

"Thank you for the update, officer. Captain Kiske out." He reached up afterward and switched the channels on the side of the device. Before opening one to Stein, however, he turned his head behind him to the metal divider between the cab of the transport and the backside. Knowing he was in auditory range of the driver, he called out to him.

"If you can…drive this transport faster."

* * *

The forest was rather peaceful in and of itself. Jam herself had not grown up around stands of trees, and this was her first time in a place like this. Due to the warm summer, most of the trees were still clinging to their leaves even until this point. She didn't know it, but the place hadn't even changed in color completely until just a few days ago. However, the last bit of green had now faded from the forest. The canopy was an array of yellows, reds, oranges, and browns. There was now sufficient matter to create a layer of dead leaf material along the forest floor, and try as Jam might, she couldn't help but crunch some of them with each step. However, it wasn't nearly as bad as it would be in a week or two, when there would be several inches lining the ground. At that point, one would have to practically plow their way through the understory, and if one wanted to track someone they would have little trouble in doing so. Sadly, Jam didn't have that luxury now. She just had to move on as best she could.

The chef's boots may have hardly been hiking shoes, but it didn't matter much to Jam. She hadn't spent years training in how to be light on her feet and years afterward learning how to maneuver and move quickly around a restaurant to be stopped by something so simple as footwear. She was glad to see that her experience had paid off. She was making rather good time, and knew she was leaving a lot of the more heavily armed and equipped bounty hunters in the dust. Perhaps she'd get to this Gear first after all…

As it turned out, Jam hadn't had to be very technical about how she got through the barricade around town on her last attempt. She had been heading out to try again to sneak past right when the mobs in Hildebrant began to form. She didn't have long to try and spy another opening in the guard and defenses around the forest when things came to a head right on top of her. Soon, she was smashed together with a rather sizable crowd that was already storming the barricade. She wasn't sure what exactly happened…only that she heard the sounds of blows followed by gunshots. It was a bit disconcerting to the chef, but she soon had little choice of turning back or breaking off, as the crowd she was in abruptly surged forward en masse. Soon, they were all flowing out through a fresh opening in the barricade and pouring into the forest. After struggling against the tide for a few minutes, Jam eventually let it carry her. After all, this was why she was here, right? And she eventually realized that she couldn't give up the opportunity. She implemented her skills and technique to go with the surge, moving against it and running around the various people to push herself deeper into the forest and ahead of the others. It was a good thing too because as she did, she saw some of the bounty hunter factions begin to get violent with one another, and some of the situations were escalating when she broke off. She had a dark feeling there would be more gunshots and blows in a few minutes…

However, she had left that all behind at this point. Now she found herself alone, miles away from Hildebrant. Apparently, large as the crowds had been, either her speed, their fighting amongst themselves, police countermeasures, or simply the span of the forest itself had thinned them out to the point where individuals were off on their own. There was still the distant sound of whooping or hollering from time to time-the sounds of revelry at finally being able to pursue the Gear. There was the occasional sound of some heavier machinery as well. But for the most part, it was getting quiet. It was clear that there wasn't anyone else around for some distance. To be honest it was somewhat disconcerting. Jam had been packed in with crowds for days but now she found herself in this forest…potentially alone with a very dangerous opponent. She hadn't heard much about Gears growing up, but it was impossible for anyone on Earth to have no knowledge of them whatsoever. And what she heard had not been comforting. She tried not to think of that, however…visualizing the goal…the restaurant…

Those thoughts were cut off a moment later when Jam suddenly drove her toes forward and into a rock.

"…Oof!"

The woman stumbled and nearly tripped. Quickly, Jam threw her arms out and waved them as she stumbled forward a few more steps, staggering and trying to get her legs back underneath her. It only took a moment before she was successful, and she straightened up once again, coming to a stop.

She had hardly finished halting, however, when she formed a pained expression and held up the foot that had struck the stone. She had managed to stub four of her toes on one foot. Her loose cloth shoes didn't provide much protection against compression, and it effectively had been as if her feet were bare. The woman let out a curse. She had let her mind wander too much and hadn't looked to see where she was going. She had to watch that. If she got seriously hurt out here, there was no one she could go to for support or recovery and she had no way of patching herself up either. She had to save her stamina for the Gear.

With that in mind, the woman twisted her leg around and put it back down on the ground. It wasn't too bad. She could walk it off with little difficulty. After pausing a moment longer, she looked back up and began to take a step forward…

She stopped a moment later, freezing in her tracks.

A new figure was standing ten feet in front of her.

Jam was surprised for only half a second. That was how long it took her reflexes to instantly respond in the way she had best been trained to react in a surprise situation such as this. In this world, and in some of the places she had been in and lived, it didn't pay to stay lax or be off guard. It was downright fatal in the wrong situation. And realizing that she was in an area swarming with people who were potentially cutthroats regarding the bounty on the Gear and had already violently broken through one human barricade, this definitely qualified.

With little hesitation or interruption in her movements, Jam drew one leg up and curled it so that her foot was placed against her other leg. One hand curled back over her shoulder while the other extended outward and formed only a slight crook in her arm, aimed in front of her in the same direction as her curled knee. Only then did she afford herself the luxury of actually looking in front of her and seeing who she was dealing with. At the outset, she didn't know how this person had appeared in front of her, but her best guess was that she had been hiding behind one of the large tree trunks in the area and had stepped out when Jam had been distracted from stumbling. She picked out some immediate details. The woman was initially cloaked in gray, but it was little more than thin cloth, and the moment that Jam reacted she threw it aside. She revealed a simple one piece white and blue garment that covered her upper torso and just managed to conceal her private parts, with her arms covered by long black gloves. Her hair, long, healthy, blond, and beautiful, was kept out of her face by a blue hairband, revealing Eastern European features. Furthermore, she saw the woman immediately react in response to Jam's own shift in stance, getting into a combat position of her own. At least…Jam _assumed_ it was a combat position. She had mastered three different styles of martial arts and had seen many others formally demonstrated, but she had never seen a stance like this.

The woman curled her arms up around herself, positioned one foot toward Jam, and actually swung her hair so that a short ponytail she had made now dangled in front of her face. If anything, that seemed a hindrance. Wouldn't that obscure her vision? Yet the woman didn't seem to care or, if anything, seemed to be making sure that her hair was in between her and Jam.

The two stared at each other for a few moments of silence, neither one moving, reacting, or, most of all, letting down their guard. A few distant echoes managed to find their way into their area, and the wind blew by, but otherwise there was no sound from either of them. Jam tried her best to look formidable as she continued to look into the other woman's eyes. As time passed, however, she found herself in danger of breaking. She had never encountered anyone with such a cold stare; one so void of emotion or feeling and yet so powerful at the same time. The air seemed to be growing heavier and cooler as well as they stood on, with a grave seriousness coming over the situation.

"…You certainly don't look like a conventional assassin."

Jam looked up a bit at that. "…Excuse me?"

"Playing innocent now, I see?" The woman continued, her accent clearly a cold Russian. "Do not bother. You're certainly not a bounty hunter. They let their 'wear and tear' show far more. And you're definitely not an IPF officer the way you are dressed."

The chef didn't move from her position, but her own focused look was turning to confusion. "You think I'm an assassin?"

"It's more believable than you being here for the bounty. Especially with that attire. Why else were you following me?"

Jam was now very surprised. "Following you?"

The woman's gaze narrowed. "I'm getting tired of you playing a fool…" For a moment, Jam almost thought she saw the woman's hair lengthen a bit…

However, she didn't focus on that. She actually risked breaking her position a bit and holding up her hands defensively.

"Hey! I wasn't following you! I'm just here to hunt the Gear! I was just trying to get ahead of everyone else! I didn't even know there was anyone hiding out in this forest…" She paused momentarily on saying this, before her own gaze narrowed. "…Unless _you're_ the Gear."

Now, it was the Russian's turn to look surprised. "What the…?! Don't be ridiculous! Do I look like I have a tail to you?"

Jam blinked once. "…Gears have tails?"

The Russian frowned. "Either you are ignorant or a very convincing actor. You seem to be fairly innocent. But you honestly expect me to believe that in the whole of the Schwarzwald and all of the bounty hunters and fortune seekers in the area, you just happened to end up following me completely by accident?"

The chef paused for a moment or two, but shrugged. "Um…pretty much. Look, ma'am…there's only one reason I'm in this forest right now, and that's to beat up that Gear so I can get a bounty and open my own restaurant."

"…Is that honestly the best story you could come up with?"

"It's the truth!" Jam shot back, almost insistent. "You said it yourself! I don't even look like an assassin! And I really don't want any trouble. I'm saving myself up for the Gear." She let out a sigh…getting a little tired of holding her current position. "Look, if you just ease up, I'll be on my way, and you can go back to hiding or whatever you were doing that made the assassins mad at you."

The woman was silent momentarily, never breaking her gaze from Jam, and never showing any change. However, the chef figured this was a good sign. Perhaps she was thinking it over or reconsidering. At any rate, she didn't want to stay here. Jam began to realize that in addition to the incoming bounty hunters, if this woman really _did_ have assassins after her…then that meant she should probably leave as soon as possible. She didn't want any trouble with them.

Finally, the Russian exhaled.

"Whether you are an assassin or not no longer matters. I must dispatch you now."

Jam's momentary ray of hope was snuffed out. "Er…come again?"

"If you're an assassin, I can't risk letting you live. If you're _not_ an assassin, you seem too frail to keep them from getting my location out of you. At the bare minimum, I must beat you down to the point of being comatose."

"Wh…what?!" Jam's eyes widened like saucers. "Are you insane?"

"This will go easier if you just submit." Was all the woman answered, before she snapped her head around.

To Jam's shock, her hair instantly lengthened out and solidified, becoming almost like a tentacle or pseudopod. Seeing it sailing right for her skull, she quickly darted to one side…and felt her hair sharply tugged at as it sailed past. She actually let out a mild cry of surprise as the hair tagged the nearest tree and knocked a large chunk out of it. The chef was shocked at the level of power displayed, and snapped back to the woman, as she saw her calmly turn her head around, whipping her hair back to her, and then lashing out again for her. She cried out again as she backpedaled, letting the blond mane strike the ground where she had been a moment ago. Again, there was a serious impact as the hair smashed a considerable hole into where she had stood.

"What the heck are you?!" Jam exclaimed in shock on seeing her hair reacting, seeming to lengthen and contract at the wishes of its owner. "I told you…I'm not an assassin!"

The Russian's only answer was to swing her head around again. Her hair lengthened longer this time, this time solidifying and flattening to become what looked like a blade of hair, and then slashing out for Jam's head. Yelping again, she quickly ducked, but still felt the air tug as the blond's hair whizzed over her head, and part of her "tufts" that were up in the golden band were neatly severed from her head and fell to the ground. She was shocked yet again. This woman's hair didn't only have power-she could make it into a sharp weapon! It actually whistled through the air a moment before striking a tree trunk and then locking into it, like an axe swung too hard. In fact, she looked to it with a frown, and tried to recoil it momentarily.

However, that was the last straw for Jam, as she tightened up.

"Alright, you want a fight? I'll give you one!"

Immediately, she sprung up and at the Russian. The woman's hair was still caught and, as a result, she was stunned for a precious moment and only able to gape in response at Jam launching herself at her. As for the chef, she swung her leading leg back, over, and in an arc over the top of her body while she hurled herself toward the woman, and the edge of her foot almost seemed to glow with a touch of light from power. A moment later, the kick came around and slammed down on the top of the Russian's head with a solid sounding blow.

The woman actually let out a grunt as her head was knocked down, and whatever control she was using over her hair seemed to relax, which was ironically a good thing as it allowed the hair to condense and quickly retract to her body. Nevertheless, Jam was rather surprised. That was one of her most powerful strikes, and all she got for it was deflecting the Russian's head down and driving her into a bit of pain. Quickly, she put her own foot down and tried to exploit the situation. Her hands curled up and formed palms, and she drove one out for the woman's midsection. It didn't work quite as well as she had hoped this time. Even if the woman was stunned, by fighting with her hair it seemed she could keep her arms in front of her at all times. Nevertheless, the palm she drove forward still managed to connect with her enough to send her stepping back, and let out another small noise from the hit. She quickly advanced for another one…

But no such luck this time. By now, the hair had returned to being a ponytail, and condensed and swung down to deflect her next palm strike. The move surprised Jam once again, still not quite used to someone fighting with their hair, but she tried launching other blows to try and get a hit through, treating the hair like any other limb that would leave an opening. Unfortunately, the Russian had only been stunned a second, and quickly lashed out with her hair multiple times to deflect each and every incoming palm she drove at her. She did this for about four blows all together before Jam realized something. The hair wasn't just striking her hands aside. It had bifurcated and lashed itself around either wrist. When she tried to launch a fifth blow, she found both of her arms were caught.

She blinked in surprise a moment, before looking up to the Russian…who now had a red spot on top of her forehead from where she had been struck and a rather angry look. A moment later, Jam gave a wail as she found her body yanked off of the ground, over her head, and slammed rather hard onto the dirt behind the icy woman. It's was good thing it _was_ dirt and didn't have too many tree roots or rocks…or rather than be severely agonized from the hit she might have done some real damage. At any rate, she cried out again a moment later when the hair snapped back, yanked her up, swung her over her head again, and smashed her into the ground in front of her. This time, she landed rather painfully on her face, filling her head with more trauma and agony. Yet again, she was soon yanked up, pulled over the Russian's head, and slammed back down behind her…

But, by now, Jam managed to grit her teeth and toughen up enough to use her limbs still free to her, and suddenly launched out with a sweeping kick for the blond's ankles. Luckily, it caught her off guard. She seemed to expect Jam would be too stunned to fight back at this point, and soon her own face widened in surprise as she found her balance yanked out from beneath her, and went back toward the ground. In the process, her hair loosened around Jam's wrists, so the chef used the moment to quickly pull herself together, shift her body, and start doing backflips to get out of there. A good thing too, because the Russian's recovery time wasn't much slower, and in a moment she leaned up onto all fours and lashed her hair out for her position in the air. Jam winced as she nearly felt her clothing torn, and yelped again on her next backflip as her fingers got a shallow scrape on them from the icy woman's hair pursuing her. She backflipped once more after that, as the Russian began to rise and focus for another blow, and as she came out, she spotted a tree branch overhead. Quickly, she leapt up, seized it, and yanked herself up into the air to plop on top of it like an expert gymnast.

Yet soon she cried out in alarm again as the Russian's hair once more formed a blade and shot out to shatter the end of the branch attached to the tree. Quickly, she leapt again for the next highest branch, but this time she only managed to grab it; not pull herself up on top of it. A moment later, she was dangling in a panic from it, her feet lashing about wildly.

The Russian drew herself up and surveyed her opponent for a moment as her hair went back, obviously planning a new move now that she had the luxury of time. "For someone who claims to not be an assassin, you're handling yourself rather well…"

"Ugh!" Jam answered as she struggled to hang on, but already felt her hands slowly slipping. "What do I have to do to convince you I'm not trying to kill you?!"

The Russian's hair formed a new pseudopod and readied itself. "Let me hit you."

"That's crazy!" The chef protested, but it hardly mattered. The icy woman launched her hair at her again. The chef gulped before she implemented the only defense she had left. As the hair shot for her body, she quickly swung one of her legs up and out while it was still at a distance, using the maximum power to deflect it. It was successful, but only because Jam used about all the strength she could put into it, and ended up slipping a bit more as a result of overextending herself. Plus, it took only a moment for the blond to lash out for her again, forcing her to quickly bring up her leg and deflect this hit as well. Unfortunately, after doing so she slid even more, and this time she could feel herself continuing to slide. She couldn't hold much longer. She had to get out of this somehow, and only one way presented itself.

As the woman drove her hair at her again, Jam grit her teeth a bit, and then swung both of her legs up together. When the hair reached her, she drove both of her feet down on it and deflected it, but also planted her legs upon it. A moment later, she let go of the branch and, to the Russian's surprise, and a bit to the surprise of the chef, she actually managed to touch down. A moment later, she took off, rushing right down the woman's own mane right for her. The blond had only a moment to react, before she quickly dropped her hair, making it go flaccid and recoiling it. Yet Jam was just a bit faster. As the hair collapsed, she launched herself off it again, once more doing an overhead roundhouse move. And this time, she had to advantage of higher ground.

Unfortunately for the chef, the Russian was a bit more prepared this time, and quickly snapped up her recoiled hair and crossed it to block the overhead kick as it came down. Yet in spite of her durability, Jam's heel was so strong that it made her hair buckle, and still managed to come down enough to inflict a lighter blow on her head, making the woman wince and recoil. Realizing she couldn't risk letting the Russian recover enough to use her hair again, Jam struggled to press her advantage, using an advancing technique designed to both launch repeated alternating blows as well as to force her opponent to retreat, trying to keep her off guard. She stepped and used one palm, then stepped again and swung her other palm over, before alternating with a twist of her original palm, aimed for whatever spot seemed vulnerable. Unfortunately, the Russian's defense was too tight, even when she was being forced backward. Her hair continued to lash out and act as a "third limb", one that didn't fatigue or seem to get tired as she intercepted one hit after another; not to mention forcing Jam to put less power into her hits so she didn't have a chance to snag her wrists like last time. But even if she got around it, the woman kept her limbs in front of her, keeping her torso guarded at all times.

 _I've got to get her to lower her arms…_ Jam thought as she continued her assault. _But how?_

As Jam tried to think, however, eventually the blond got in a counter. After knocking away one of her blows, she used the momentum to bring her hair up and around and drive it forward to smash right into Jam's face. She let out a mild cry as she felt like a rock had just been thrown into her head. Any harder and it would have done some real damage, but as it was it was enough to quickly interrupt her attack and send her reeling back. The woman used the moment to snap her head out, lengthening her mane a bit more, and then swinging it upward, letting the end of her hair shoot into the air and catch her under the chin powerfully. Again, not quite as strong as before, but getting there. No doubt Jam's jaw would be in multiple pieces even from that if she was a normal person. Only the fact her magic made her a bit more durable enabled her to withstand it, although she still felt her teeth slamming shut and found herself taken off the ground once again, this time with blood coming out of her lips.

The Russian's hair came back and snapped forward again, either intending to give a finishing "thrust" or to snag Jam and whip her around as before. Yet before the hair could make contact, Jam's body, flaccid and limp a moment ago, came to life suddenly with a strained grunt; allowing her to swing out her feet and kick off of strike, backflip, and then spin around and land on the ground. Her legs splayed wide and one of her hands went down, narrowly keeping her from collapsing. She actually wavered and wobbled a moment, still dizzy and seeing a "few" of the woman in front of her. Yet in spite of that, she suddenly launched herself back and shot straight in toward the woman, bringing a palm around and inward, planning on giving her a powerful blow to the abdomen's pressure point.

Yet strong as the move was, her opponent looked hardly miffed as she lowered her hair and splayed it out to act as a shield, intercepting the palm before it could do any damage to her in a rather easy block. Even though her hair had been toughened it buckled a bit, yet that was ultimately irrelevant considering the fact the blow never reached her body. The Russian brought her hair up and around to counter with another grand blow of her own, this one at stronger power…

However, she soon had to settle for a lighter one, for Jam came right at her, advancing quick and moving her fist around to try and drive it forward. To stop her, the woman quickly snapped out her hair and smacked her against the head. It might not have been full power, bit it was still enough to snap the chef's head one way and jerk her neck as well. Yet instead of being deterred, Jam quickly grit her teeth, focused herself, and came right back up to keep advancing. This was bad for the blond, for she had tried to move back to use more of her own power. Now, instead, she had to quickly shape her hair around in a block again. A moment later, she deflected one of Jam's fists and then whipped her hair around, this time giving her a blow to the side, aiming deep and up and under the ribs. Jam cried out in pain again as she felt the power driven deep into her, and she nearly faltered again. Yet in spite of that, as the Russian backed up to strike again, she cried out, sprung forward, and swept her palms in a circular-arc strike, again forcing the woman to defend herself.

This continued in a tradeoff for a few more blows, with the blond's strikes continuously aborted, although she continued to inflict more pain on Jam. Soon, part of the chef's dress was torn, and the successive blows to one side of her head were beginning to show off bruises, and possibly teeth being knocked out. Jam's counters became more and more erratic as her senses swam and she grew dizzier from each strike, yet she kept throwing herself harder and faster at the woman. What more, in spite of the assault she was taking, her speed was increasing. The blond was having to go more and more erratic and random with her own strikes to try and deflect her and keep her at bay.

Finally, the Russian grit her teeth, clearly getting angry and annoyed at all of this. As Jam reeled back up in yet another wild move, she had enough. Suddenly, her arms snapped out from in front of her. As the chef tried to make another pair of strikes, these ones quick darting blows, she suddenly lashed out with one limb to deflect one, and then another limb to deflect the other. In doing so, she hoped she gave herself enough of a break to whip her hair around in a finishing move…

Only to realize too late she had made a mistake.

Jam allowed her hits to be deflected even as her own eyes widened in delight. The Russian had hardly finished snapping her arms away when Jam, suddenly having a second wind, lashed up with one of her feet and buried it right in the blond's solar plexus. The woman's expression of realization of her mistake, of lowering her arms to open her torso up, lasted only a moment before the blow landed. And in spite of her own strength training and power, as well as the recklessness of this blow, it landed hard, enough to make her face distort in agony before her hair momentarily went flaccid.

 _Now's my chance!_ Jam thought as she tried to toughen through all of the pain and injury that she had willingly baited the woman into giving her. Before the Russian could reform her hair or get her arms up again, Jam was on her, lashing out like streaks of light as she gave four rapid palms into her exposed stomach, making sure to dig each one in to knock a bit of air out of the blond's lungs. The strikes were so fast and quick, but also strong, that they stopped each attempt she made to counter, ruining each attempt at focus. After taking these hits, the Russian's hair suddenly condensed again and swung around, obviously the result of the woman forcing it into a mostly erratic and panic move to try and get her defenses up again, but this time Jam was ready for it. Gritting her own teeth, she suddenly performed a strange "arc hop", bringing one of her legs up and around as she did so, and putting it down and around on the hair as it came in. The Russian's eyes widened again as she saw the chef not only intercept her hair, but lace her leg around it in an "intercept". Before she could think enough to loosen it up, Jam used the moment to yank her body up and closer, and soon she battered the Russian in the head again with rapid jabs, landing four of them in a second before performing a palm slap to smack her head aside.

The result of that was to not only make the blond stagger back, but also caused her hair to go flaccid again. Jam quickly leapt off of the woman and landed back on the ground. Again, she nearly stumbled, for she was panting at this point as well as still hurt, but she wouldn't stop. Quickly, she darted in again, this time tracing along the ground in a way she did before, swinging her fist in and around, and driving a palm deep and into the woman's already-struck pressure point so strongly that she saw her actually collapse around the fist as her entire body was lifted a foot off of the ground. The Russian's mouth opened wide and coughed up a bit of blood of her own as her face was stretched into an expression of pain and shock. Jam quickly pulled back, letting her land, but only to advance again and follow with another upward palm that smashed her under the chin, snapping the blond's head up again and arching her back. Still not done with this, and pushing herself to keep attacking fast and with everything she had, Jam vaulted forward, landed on her hands, swung her body up into a handstand, and then swung either heel around to give the Russian a powerful "double kick" to the side of her head which knocked it wildly to one side and made her stumble back more than before.

When the chef came out of this, swinging her legs down and forward and quickly snapping her body up and tall again, she found herself nearly wobbling and sweating, dizzy from the entire experience. Yet in spite of that, she saw the Russian stagger back so much that, for a brief moment, her balance was nearly lost.

The thought made the chef light up. _I'm…I'm winning!_

And that thought lasted all of a half a second longer before, with what seemed like a sudden effort of iron will, the blond slammed one of her feet down so hard to stabilize herself that it appeared to shake the earth. Not only that, but her gaze flashed back up to Jam, and was so powerful and icy she actually felt her teeth chatter from the cold feeling it gave her. She let out a gulp as she realized she probably should have continued her assault until the woman was down before rejoicing.

Now, however, the Russian snapped her head back, and then forward again. Soon, it was Jam's turn to be taken off the ground and battered by repeated thrusts of enough power to make her body sink around them, as the hair snapped forth again and again, bashing her in the stomach, chest, face, and neck. It must have done so at least twelve times in all, although the chef was so violently smacked by what seemed almost like jackhammer blows from the hair that she could register little else other than her body being smashed repeatedly by the hair. After that was done, still glaring at her with a look that could kill, the blond drove her hair down, and immediately it lengthened into a spike before it shot straight into the ground. Jam, on her part, landed on the earth herself a moment later, battered and weakened, feeling as if she had just been sandwiched between two speeding cars, and wobbled back, nearly collapsing. A good thing too, for the hair spike erupted out of the ground beneath her a moment later, and shot up straight for her body. It would have impaled her if she hadn't fallen back. As it was, a tear was heard, and a blood gash soon ripped into her chest as it went by her torso. If the hair hadn't already been knocked out of her and her throat collapsed by the battery of blows, Jam would have yelled in pain.

Still not done, the Russian's hair snapped out of the ground, ripping up landscape as it did, and drew itself back to her and began to whip around her body furiously, lengthening into a spiral. It became clear that the hair was forming a "twister", and as it did she dashed forward straight for Jam. Too overwrought by pain from the beating she had received, and now the latest clash, Jam barely managed to pull herself up, weakly trying to resume a battle stance, before her eyes widened to see the Russian running right at her. She only got off half of a nervous squeak before one of the loops of hair around her came forward and connected with her skull.

Jam was again ripped off of her feet, this time practically turned into debris herself, and sent hurtling back about twenty feet before she smashed into a tree trunk. A large crack was heard as she connected, which could have been tree bark or the sound of her spine along with several other bones in her body. It was honestly hard to tell. No matter what it was, the girl went limp and slid down a moment later.

As for the Russian, she let her hair relax a moment, returning to being the previous dangling ponytail. She breathed in and out a bit, clearly winded. She raised a glove to wipe the excess blood from her own mouth, and winced a bit from touching a bruise from one of Jam's blows. Her look remained hard and deadly as she stared at the woman, but she didn't move anymore. Her hands stayed in fists, though. And her hair stayed at the ready. Before her, Jam looked utterly broken and defeated, almost like a crushed doll. She figured that had finally done it.

Therefore, her eyes widened a bit in genuine surprise when Jam suddenly inhaled, and then sprung back to her feet, once again pulling her body into the one-legged ready stance.

She managed a weak, uncertain, yet mildly triumphant smile at the woman.

"Heh…heh…didn't think that could get me down, did you?" She said; not nearly as confident as she wanted to be. After all, her insides felt like they had just been put into a blender, and quite a few of her bones were bruised. The only reason she wasn't broken now was by implementing the "formless" style right before the Russian had begun to beat on her. And the only reason she could stand even after _that_ was because she was devoting part of her mind to using a pain suppression technique. As it was, she wavered and swayed on her one leg and felt her muscles and arms quiver like gelatin. She wasn't sure the Russian would even _feel_ her next blow. Any of those major hits she gave earlier should have put her down. The fact that she was still able to stand up after this scared Jam a bit…

"But…um…since you fought so hard, I'm willing to call it a draw." She suggested in what she hoped was a confident-sounding voice.

The Russian said nothing in response right away, before she exhaled, actually sounding tired, but not breaking her stance. In fact, she began to grow ready again herself. "Assassin or no assassin, you're an impressive one. No wonder you made it beyond all of those others…" She continued to hold her position. "…You took a lot out of me with your gamble. I wonder how much _you_ still have."

Jam swallowed visibly as her confidence mask began to crumble. "Uh…let's not find out, shall we?"

The woman only kept her eyes narrowed. "At this point, letting you go will leave me easy prey to you later, especially if you tell others I'm hurt and weakened. We shall end this with our next blows…"

"Can't I forfeit?" Jam whined.

The Russian didn't answer. She continued to keep her gaze on her. In another moment, her hair might have lashed out, or she might have taken off for her. Yet before she could do either of those actions, while Jam continued to stand there and sweat bullets, something happened. Suddenly, the blond's eyes went a bit to one side…and a moment later she snapped her head fully in one direction and lashed her hair out that way. The chef's own nervousness suddenly evaporated, being replaced by confusion. What was she aiming for?

She found out a moment later when a high-pitched noise, like wire cutting through the air, suddenly went off…along with a man's yell. Suddenly, the blond pitched a bit as something struck her; something, Jam realized, that looked like a bolos trap chain. On making impact, Jam saw it had two metal balls around the end of it, which quickly swung around her body to snare her. The blond only had a moment to look around in shock before Jam saw what looked like blue electricity snake out of it and lash all around her. Not only that, but as a result of doing so, her body didn't tense, but her hair seemed to "flatten" a bit and instantly return to its former length. Not only that, but the impact made her fall to the ground. Once there, she grit her teeth and struggled to rise again, but it seemed the chain had caught part of her legs as well when it wrapped around her. She was stuck at least for the moment.

As she struggled, however, leaving Jam blinking a bit at the sudden reversal of fortune, she got another surprise; this one enough to make her put her other foot down. Several rough-looking guys, even worse than the group she had run into at the Laundromat, seemed to literally crawl out of the woodwork. Some of them merely walked into Jam's view from around the trees framing her vision, but she saw two emerge from hedges and behind trunks, and one literally drop out from overhead, having painted himself in autumn colors. In moments, there were five of them around her, each one armed with some form of weapon. One of them had some sort of modified crossbow that had obviously fired the bolt. However, the one on the opposite side wasn't really wielding his own weapon, which seemed little more than some sort of combination pipe/hatchet, which apparently had been modified into a magic-based implement, and was instead clutching his shoulder, which was bleeding considerably.

"Damn bitch! Look what she did to my arm!"

One of the thugs nearby looked to him and chuckled. "Yeah…lucky you. Good thing that Chinese girl over there knocked her around a bit, or she would have got you right between the eyes."

"On that note…" One of the thugs answered, soon looking up to Jam, and making her recoil a bit in surprise. However, he merely waved at her. "Thanks a lot, girl. Nice of you to keep this Russian wench busy long enough for us to get into position."

"Uh…huh?" The chef answered, not really knowing what was going on. However, as the thug looked away and back to the woman, she began to realize what it was. The blond had said something about assassins earlier. If that was the case, then (with another nervous gulp) Jam realized that's who these five were. And that also meant that they were here to kill her. As for the Russian herself, she continued to struggle and strain against her bonds, saying something in her native language that sounded like curses.

"Don't bother." The one with the crossbow stated, leaning down and hitting her in the stomach as well. Jam didn't know it, but she normally would have merely brushed that aside, but due to her earlier injuries she spasmed and winced. "Bummed this off of the IPF in Southeast Asia. Once it's in contact with you like this, the induction between the two bolo ends actually cancel out an individual's magic power. Even a 'Forbidden Magic' like yours can't do anything about it. You see…" He leaned in a bit more, letting his head hang over her body. "I make it a point of researching my marks before I go after them. And I know for a fact that without your hair, the great 'Millia Rage' is nothing more than a helpless little bi-"

That was all he got out before his eyes bulged, he cried out, and then he fell over-the result of the woman, Millia, managing to bring her legs up and bury her knee into the man's crotch. He gasped in pain, his face stretched with agony, and he clutched for his midsection. A moment later, he toppled over, but the other thugs were quickly on her. The one who hadn't spoken yet leapt on top of her, putting his hands on her shoulders to pin her down while stretching out his legs to go down on her ankles, keeping her from moving at all. If that wasn't enough, the second one instantly put his hands together, uncapped a ring from one of his hands, and then yanked them apart, revealing a length of garrote wire. In a moment, he was on the ground and stretching it across her neck. Now, Millia couldn't even struggle. She hadn't the strength to get the first off, and if she did, the second would bring the wire down to cut off her arteries.

"Let's get it over with. All we need to carry with us is her head, after all…" The one on top of her murmured.

"Not so fast." The one with the wire retorted. "Sure, Venom wants her dead…but I'm betting we can get double for her alive. He'll want to do it himself."

"Uh…excuse me?" Jam suddenly interjected, raising a hand a bit timidly like a child in class. "You guys are all…um, assassins, right?"

"Screw that." The first assassin stated with a sneer, not hearing Jam. "She nearly nicked an artery with that damn hair of hers… Venom wants her…he should have got her himself."

The fifth assassin said little, having collapsed to one side of the ground now, but was struggling to get up and glaring at Millia with killer intent. However, the second one snorted. "So what? You think I'm about to blow 100,000 world dollars because your little ego got bruised?"

"You know…it _would_ be good for personal business…" The one pinning her on top said as he held out a hand in front of him. Moments later, a bit of light went around it, before what looked like a long needle of ice formed in it. "If we could get the rep for being the ones who killed her. Might be worth more than double the price."

"To hell with that." The fourth one answered. "I'm not going to risk hauling her back and getting out. She's an assassin among assassins."

"You know…" Jam suddenly spoke up again. "Much as I appreciate this, guys…I…never really wanted her 'dead', to be perfectly honest. You know…just to get her to leave me alone… You think you could, um, uh…maybe…possibly…let her up?"

"I'm…gonna…kill…the bitch…" The fifth one grunted as he struggled to rise.

"Not unless you've got an extra 100,000 lying around for me, you ain't. All of you cut the crap. Let's get her out of here and back to Venom. We had at least twenty on our tail, including those damn octuplets. We'll be fighting a hundred guys over her in a minute instead of each other."

"Hey, wait up a second. "Why you want her alive all of the sudden? I thought we agreed to whack her first. You trying to get that bounty for yourself?"

"I'm trying to get _a_ bounty, you idiot!"

"Wait, I'm with him… You thinking of getting us in the back and eliminating a few shares? Even 25,000 is better than 20,000…and 33,000 is better than that…"

"Ain't nothing wrong with wanting more money." The fourth retorted, beginning to crack his own neck and knuckles as he did so. By now, after this latest suggestion, he was getting a bit more on edge. They all were, figuring there might be trouble brewing. They were all starting to look to one another a bit more uneasily… "Haven't you ever heard of good business?"

"That's twice as much money!" The one with the wire stated, although he looked a bit more uneasily around himself.

"Well, I'd just as soon whack her now." The one with the needle answered. "Bird in the hand, and all that."

"Sounds fine to me." The first stated, hefting his weapon again. As he did, it seemed to light up a bit with a bit of aura, as if he was manipulating something inside it with magic. He looked down to Millia's skull, her face still tight and defiant as she thought, and got ready to bring it down. "I'll end this argument right here and make it all a moot point."

Those who wanted her alive for more money snapped to him, ready to protest, but it was too late. The first one began to bring the weapon down. The woman's eyes widened in response, but she showed no other fear. No sign of terror or doom; trying to meet her fate bravely…

When, suddenly, a foot lashed out and kicked the wrist in such a way to suddenly knock the club-like weapon up and out of the man's grip, launching it into the air high above, sending it spiraling in a series of spinning arcs as it went high and through the canopy, burning through leaves along the way.

In a flash, everyone present snapped their heads to the source, and found Jam with her foot still extended.

"Hey!" She angrily shouted. "You should listen when someone is talking to you!"

The assassins didn't answer; only began to rapidly look darker and shift their bodies more toward her. The one with the needles formed two more, while the one she had just disarmed by surprise fully turned to her with a rather unfriendly glare as his own knuckles began to tighten. Jam's impetuousness immediately vanished as she suddenly realized she was in a weakened state and facing five assassins. She let out a swallow. She began to take a step backward as she held her hands up defensively.

"Uh…er…of course, if you all have your hearts set on this…heh… You know…then who am I to intrude on a private-"

The chef was cut off as she saw the club-like object descend again, still spiraling over itself, and coming down right next in such a way to swing down on impact…right onto one of the bolos. A moment later, it made a connection and smashed it into half of its side on impact.

Instants later, the first assassin in front of her spasmed, and Jam let out a shout of fright as three blond "spikes" erupted from his chest. This happened at the same time that a lock of Millia's hair lashed out, wrapped around the neck of the one with the wire to her throat, and, before he could realize what had happened, tightened and snapped his neck. The other three looked at this, including the one on her, but it was too late. If the one with the needle had kept it at her throat, he _might_ have had a chance. As it was, it took Millia all of an instant to make a long blade of hair and swing it out; removing his head while cutting through the necks of the other two with the same stroke, at least enough to spill the blood.

Jam was left standing in stunned shock as she saw the man in front of her collapse, and the rest of the assassins fall more or less as one, killed in an instant. She was left quivering and trembling as the Russian, not wasting a moment, retracted her hair out of the man she had impaled and brought it back to her. At once, it shifted again into a new blade on one of her hair pseudopods, and it quickly went down to slice the rest of the chain off of her. In a snap, she was back to her feet, and turning to give a dark glare to Jam.

"Great job, fool." She sneered. "Now the syndicate will likely try to kill you too."

The chef blinked. "…Huh? What? Kill me? But…"

"No time for stammering." Millia retorted as she reached out and seized her by the wrist. A moment later, she found herself being yanked by the blond as she began to take off into the woods again, pulling her along behind her sharply. "I'm not going to leave you as yet another body to trace. That means you're coming with me so you can't tell anyone where to find me."

"But…er…uh…what…you just…" Jam stammered, not really sure what to say. All she knew was that she had just seen Millia effortlessly kill five people in a heartbeat. That was enough to make her not want to be within a hundred miles of her. She was almost recoiling from her icy grip as she pulled her along, flailing almost along the way. "You…you're an assassin too, aren't you?"

"I won't bother answering stupid questions. Move your feet. I wouldn't be surprised if more are already moving in and neither of us are in good enough shape to fight off a dozen of them. We need to get as many miles as possible from here."

"I…I don't want to go with you!" Jam whined. "I'm here for the Gear and the bounty, not crazy assassins who beat me up and then want me to hang out with them!"

"And I don't feel like protecting annoying Chinese women. But so long as you're endangering my life by your existence here, you're coming with me whether you like it or not."

Jam let out a groan as she felt herself painfully yanked on. Already, she couldn't see behind her to where the five bodies were. She was stuck.

 _Wait a second…didn't_ I _just save_ her _?_

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	11. Curiosity

**"** **Curiosity"**

* * *

Venom had decided, by now, that he really hated forests.

There were obvious matters that made him upset about them. The fact that his suit wasn't the best clothes to wear in one, for example. After all, he was wearing white and custom-tailored material. Running around in some place like this wasn't exactly a good way to keep himself stain free. Some people would say it was vanity to be worried about something so minor, but in his line of work, it was important to actually keep up appearances. He already had enough things working against him. His orientation made a lot of people think all he could do was wave his hand at people and speak with a lisp. And that required him to dirty his knuckles bashing in a few heads to "correct" said individuals. He didn't need the addition of running around in a dirty suit.

Yet what made everything worse was that certain assassins were naturally suited to certain types of ground. Certain "locales", as it were. And people like him were definitely more suited toward the larger cities. Not natural settings like bloody forests. He looked like a fish out of water with the four assassins he was manning. All of them were the more rugged outdoor type. One of them was dressed in survival gear and camouflage with a large rifle over his back. Another one was dressed in a similarly camouflaged poncho or covering of a sort with a hood that obscured almost everything on her body. Another was one of the more native types from North America, already painted for the kill and looking so toned and muscular that he might as well have been a wild animal himself. The last was from the opposite hemisphere, South America, looking at home in this deciduous, fall forest as he would be in any jungle. They seemed to move and blend in without crunching so much as a leaf underfoot or disturbing a single falling bit of color.

Venom, on the other hand, stuck out like a sore thumb with his white and black attire contrasting to the natural autumn foliage. He had honestly been holding out for the hope that Millia would have made it to a city. After all, not only was it more his forte, but he could track people very well. Instead, he found himself running through this forest, not even wearing decent footwear, and hoping that the last bit of mess he stepped through was mud and not animal excrement…

He forced himself to grin and bear it. Especially now. Two of the group that was supposed to move in to corner Rage found that five others had jumped the gun, and paid for it with their lives. She had narrowly escaped before the noose could be tightened. However, they did confirm one thing. Rage definitely wasn't at her best. There were traces of her blood around at the site, and those among the assassins who were scanners picked up on the fact that she had spent a good deal of energy. Venom didn't know if those five managed to take some of the fight out of her or not, but frankly he didn't care so long as Rage was weakened. She couldn't hope to get through a fight with them unscathed. So long as they kept the pressure on her, she'd drop.

That was why he had to move fast. It seemed they were going to have unwanted company. This area just _had_ to be the same one that had the Gear in it, and the perimeter to the forest just _had_ to collapse now. Soon "uninvited guests" in the form of dozens of bounty hunters, IPF members, IPF members trying to round up bounty hunters, etc. were pouring in. Venom had time for none of them. Assassins weren't typical thugs in that they ran afoul of the IPF every time they could and used their "muscle" to have their way. They were supposed to always be under the radar of any authorities: local, global, or otherwise. And this was supposed to be a fairly simple operation anyway; not messing everything up by getting into skirmishes. Assassins preferred to only kill people they were getting paid for, after all.

What would be far more problematic would be the bounty hunters. If they flooded the area, it would be all too easy for Rage to slip out with them. She could fit in with any of the group, and trying to search through this wretched forest over hundreds of grimy individuals…it would be impossible.

 _Might be easier to actually kill the Gear first…_ He thought to himself. _It would thin out the crowd at any rate, and I could make a return on Rage's bounty…_ After all, he was a good assassin…but 100,000 world dollars was 100,000 world dollars. Most people didn't carry around that much bread on them. It went without saying that Venom was pretty much cleaning himself out to put up the bounty as it was, and plenty of Assassin's Syndicate members were vying for the large reward for killing this latest Gear. It almost tempted him to take a stab at it. However, in the end he decided against it. A damn Gear was what cause all of this in the first place. They were bad luck.

Luckily, at least this part seemed to be going well. As premature as the attack had been, it was working out fine in this case. Rage could only go one place if she was hurt: Adalwolf. It was the only town for miles, not to mention having enough people and buildings there to hide out inside. She couldn't go back through to the encampments or she'd run into the IPF, and she couldn't afford to take the longer road too long or she'd give too many of the assassins time to catch up. That meant there was only one straight route she could take, and currently he and his own group were moving into it and cutting across. A fairly flat lowland region, with mature forest surrounding it that made the path smooth and even. About the only way she could do better would be if she used a shallow river bed about another three miles to the northeast of where Venom and the group came in.

 _But you know full well that we'd be going there first, don't you?_ Venom thought to himself. Rage was smart enough to go for "the road less traveled". Unfortunately for her, for now, Venom had the luxury of having enough eyes to cover both sides. One group of faster assassins was headed for that valley, meaning to head her off and get her at an ambush point while inside the ravine. It would be far too obvious a path for her to take, which meant she would come this way. And that's where this group came in.

As they arrived at location, the five broke up and began to slow down, taking the path far more gradually. They slipped into the various shadows and dark spots which were abundant in the Schwarzwald, even in midday in autumn. Venom may have had the hardest time, but hiding wasn't too terribly difficult for someone with as much experience as him. As for the others, they had been picked just for this. They all blended in seamlessly with the surrounding forest, and as they moved along they were experts at picking out others trying to sneak through and hide. They'd see Rage long before she could see them. All Venom had to do now was make sure he didn't cause enough of a side racket to distract them, and he'd soon be able to watch her die.

 _And once that's done, maybe we can see about getting Zato-1 back…_ He told himself as he moved along. Truth be told, the rumor alone had been good enough in getting Rage to come into the forest, but now he had to worry about actually tracking him down as well. The best way to do that might be to tail the Gear, of all individuals. Eddie or not, he seemed to be drawn to it for some reason.

As he continued to think of this, his eyes caught something in his peripheral vision. Surprising, considering his hairstyle, but not so much when one realized his hair was only in front of his vision before him, not to his sides. An interesting tactic on his part-tricking his opponents into thinking he was blind on the sides. However, the result was that he was able to see the North American native holding up a small gesture, angled in such a way, and just behind his own cover, to allow Venom to see it but no one else. He was passing a signal ahead, in fact; relaying it from the others. They had spotted something. The man went still and slipped in to a more secluded hiding spot. The others did the same. After that, they watched.

A few moments ticked by. Venom wasn't sure how the others were doing, as they were so good at their work that they couldn't be seen. Yet it didn't take too long for him to pick up on who must have gained their attention.

He didn't know much at first, but within only moments of hearing the sounds of approaching, he knew it wasn't Rage. This one was moving at a slower gait, obviously not running, yet was making more noise than he would have expected. At this point, he was beginning to hear more distant commotion far away, echoing through the understory. The sound of some operation underway. Still, this one resounded above all of it. It obviously wasn't used to being careful and quiet or, at minimum, wasn't trying to be. Someone had obviously wandered by.

The rest of the assassins went still. Whether in a city or in a forest, the rule for this sort of situation was the same: stay hidden. No need to strain oneself, after all. If they didn't see anything, it wasn't an issue. If they did…well…then they might have to be dealt with.

They didn't have to wait too terribly long. Soon, he began to come into view not only of the assassins in the lead, but everyone.

He didn't seem very "dressed for the occasion". Venom was knowledgeable enough to know a type of Japanese ceremonial or performance dress when he saw it. Lots of Asians attempted to dress in that style to attract the eyes of those who looked on the Japanese as more exotic objects to be gravitated toward. And since this individual was male, Venom found himself looking a bit more keenly at him. He definitely had a nice, firm, attractive body, no doubt there. Perhaps the costume was out of place, though. Not very good for walking through a forest. The pants were too low, and the array he had on his sleeves that extended fabric from one to another was asking to be snagged. Of course, considering what he himself was wearing, he couldn't call "a kettle black". Other than that, he had a pair of odd fans with him that almost looked like metal. They were the Japanese kind, only very large. Practically short-sword in length. Finally, a small pair of glasses on his nose. And Venom soon saw that his face was indeed the real deal. This one might have been a performer, but he definitely had Japanese ancestry about him.

 _Huh…imagine that._ Out of everything he could have seen wandering through the forest, a "national treasure" wasn't one of them. Especially one who looked plucked straight from a colony. He didn't have the look of fear or unease or uncertainty like a runaway, though. Seemed he knew more where he was going and what he was doing. Hardly mattered in either case, however. Venom was an assassin, not a bounty hunter. And he was here for Rage, not for "bringing home wayward Japanese".

The man moved a bit farther before letting out an exhale and slipping his fans into his wastebelt. He rubbed a bit at his head, clearly a bit tired, before he looked around himself a little. He took off a knapsack he had with him and set it to one side, before moving over a bit to a fallen log, looking at it a moment to ensure nothing was crawling on it, and then sat down. He let out a yawn and leaned back-much to the ire of the assassins. Venom didn't want him here taking a load off. Rage should be there soon, and he didn't need this guy distracting her. It didn't matter if he was just some average joe. Rage wasn't about to run by someone who could point out where she went or identify her later. Unfortunately, all they could really do was sit there and hoped he moved on.

A few moments passed, in which Venom bided his time and tried to be patient. The assassins with him were much the same.

However, after about a minute, he noticed the relaxing man suddenly tilted his head up a bit. He looked slightly to one side and toward the trees-toward where one of the assassins were. Namely the one with the rifle, who had the gun trained further along, to try and peg Rage when she appeared. A moment later, he spoke out.

"Hello there."

Venom raised an eyebrow beneath his hair. Did this guy see the assassin?

"I know someone's up there." He continued. "I heard something just now. I've been walking around this forest by myself for a while and I know something's up. And since I'm looking for a Gear, I'm assuming if it's not a bounty hunter or an IPF member, it must be the Gear. Could you say something to let me know who you are?"

The assassin didn't respond, as he shouldn't have. Venom relaxed slightly. He didn't see him; the assassin had just made a noise loud enough for him to hear. A bit unusual, but he didn't question it. That meant that he'd wait a bit, hear no response, and assume he imagined the whole thing…he hoped.

After a moment, however, the man merely smiled as he stood up. "You're not fooling me by staying quiet. I'm pretty sure there's someone up there. I don't know why you're hiding, but my only guess is you're either trying to ambush someone or you're the Gear. I can't see you trying to ambush me, so I deduce that you can safely reveal yourself to me without fear of reprisal. On the other hand, if you're the Gear, then I need to defend myself. So…how about talking?"

Even as he said this, he began to reach down for one of the fans at his waist, as if he was going for a weapon. Venom had no idea what he planned to do with a fan, even a metal one, although he realized it could have been cobbled into some form of exotic weapon. Was he planning on attacking? That'd be a problem if he was. There was no way the assassin could respond without confirming he was there. Of course, he didn't seem to be too battle-suited, for all of his perfect form.

After a moment, the man pulled out one fan and held it before him. He stood in silence.

"…Still nothing?" He asked. He shrugged, and then flicked his wrist to snap out his fan. "Have it your way."

A moment later, he made a short yet powerful "underhand" gesture, which sent the fan flying out of his hand and in a circular arc, slightly diagonal, right out for the tree and the location where the assassin was. It was general at best, definitely not clearly at him but more to the side. However, it still surprised Venom and the others as it flashed, seeming to generate more light than mere reflection of sunlight, and he honestly suspected it was a weapon for a moment…

Before they all received a larger shock. The fan shot by where the assassin was and flashed through the tree itself, sending branches and leaves flying everywhere, having been severed, cut, or shook from the tree. The fan itself made an arc and returned to the owner like a boomerang; but no one cared as, to the tune of a massive groaning, snapping, and rumbling sound, the entire _upper half_ of the tree began to slide off of the diagonal cut and collapse. Moments later, the assassin _did_ make his presence known as he leapt from the tree for dear life, and the next nearest one, this one the North American, dove for it too as the massive tree trunk spilled over and crashed into the other trees around it, ripping through the canopy, letting huge snapped tree branches raise from the heavens, and, most of all, the huge bit of severed wood smashing down into everything. Soon, the other assassins all had to pull back, Venom included, as the tree smashed down; letting out a thunderous shake, and ripping apart everything around it as it sent up clouds of dead, dry leaves and a rumble through the ground for two miles.

Venom himself was forced to backpedal, and didn't get safe until he had gone a hundred feet. Once there, he and the other assassins found themselves flushed from their hiding places and staring in shock. For a brief moment, Venom was more surprised at the fan than anything. These older trees could take an artillery shell and would still be standing. That fan had just done a job that would have taken a diamond-toothed chainsaw an hour to perform in about a quarter of a second. Yet that was soon forgotten in light of what had just taken place…

 _…_ _There's no way Rage is going to come through here now. And if any bounty hunter or officer is within four miles, they'll know what just happened. Our cover is completely blown and the trap is ruined._

 _That_ thought began to make him seethe in anger.

Yet it seemed someone was way ahead of him. The nearest one now sprung up and glared at the newcomer angrily. His gun had been ruined by that last attack, with the barrel being cut short. Of course, that didn't stop him from quickly tossing that weapon aside and pulling out a smaller handgun with a silencer on it. As for the one responsible, he actually looked surprised at what he had just done just as much as the others. Yet after a moment, he only let out a nervous chuckle.

"Oh…sorry about that. Guess I don't know my own strength. I always thought there was something to these fans…"

"Not half as sorry as you're about to be, you f***** idiot…" The assassin answered as he switched the safety off.

In response, however, the man held up his hands defensively, spreading out the fan in the process. "Hey, I said I was sorry. It was an honest mistake. And if you had just said something in the first place, none of that would have happened. So technically it's kind of your-"

The Japanese man was cut off a moment later as the trigger was squeezed twice in rapid succession, a signature "double tap". Two bullets were sent flying for his head. However, Venom had pretty good reaction time, and even from a distance, he noticed that somehow the man had been lucky enough to show shock on seeing the trigger being pulled and spastically put his fan in front of his face. As a result, his hand suddenly snapped back from being wrenched, no doubt by the bullets striking it. But what really stunned Venom is that both of the bullets merely "deformed" against the fan. Metal or no metal, it should have been thin enough to rip clean through.

Even so, the impact made the man cry out, and it was so unexpected that he spilled over and onto the ground, landing on his rear and immediately pulling the fan away from his face, his face wrought with surprise. However, that surprise soon turned to shock as he realized he had just been shot at and, more importantly, it seemed, that his fans had just saved him. He actually didn't look at the assassin, but his fan for a moment, stunned to see the spent bullets had been stopped cold by it.

Yet his attention went to him a moment later when the assassin, not deterred by his first failure, quickly moved in and lowered his gun with the intention of finishing him off "execution style". Again, the man panicked, but he seemed to at least be forceful in a way. He instinctively used his free hand to grab for his other fan at his waist, yanked it out, and swung it for the assassin in front of him. He was too far away to hit, even for such a long fan, so it shouldn't have mattered.

Therefore everyone was surprised when the fan seemed to "light up" for a moment before swinging out, and traced a force impact along the air to actually slice open the assassin's belly.

He froze in midstep, instantly dropping his gun as his insides literally began to spill out. His mouth was open in shock and agony, blood leaking from it. He couldn't believe what had just happened even as he felt the pain from it.

Apparently, his attacker was the same, because he blinked at him for a moment in equal open-mouthed shock. However, as the assassin weakened, the life flooding out of him, and collapsed to his knees, the Japanese man quickly reacted. In a hurry, he seized his first fan more tightly, got up to his feet, and then quickly unfurled both of them to full length. Like any civilian might who had never killed someone before and had just gone through a life-or-death situation, he held nervously and stiffly, as if expecting the assassin to still attack. However, a moment later, the gunman's eyes went dim, he let out a groan, and the mixture of trauma and blood loss either made him pass out or go into unconsciousness as he fell over.

The Japanese man continued to stand and stare a moment, aghast at what he had done. He nearly stammered in disbelief. "I…I killed him… I killed him!" He exclaimed as he looked over the body. "I actually killed a man who tried to kill me! I defended my own life in a crisis situation! I…I actually took another man's life!"

Venom, in spite of his anger, looked stunned underneath his hair at the phrasing this individual was using. _…Is this guy for real?_

The other assassins weren't nearly as hesitant. The Native American, in particular, looked only mildly stunned for a moment before his brow creased. Afterward, he reached behind him and came out with two metal hatchets made up to look like a combination of hand axe and tomahawk. Tossing them both up into the air once to "swivel", he began to advance on the man. The other two assassins further away both began to move as well, although they didn't seem to be so keen on going face to face; especially not after what they had just seen. Rather, the South American produced a bow and started to knock an arrow, while the "concealed" one lifted her arms away from her sides and emerged with what looked like some variation on throwing stars.

However, the man in question looked up from the body at last and focused only on the approaching North American. On seeing a fresh threat looming, he seemed to snap out of his shock at what happened to the first and go back into a more "analyst" mindset. "Oh…so now I get to sample fighting for my life? I'll be honest…I've never been in a real 'combat' situation before…especially not like this." He answered as he moved his hands to unfurl both fans and spread them before him. Metal or not, it would have normally looked ridiculous…especially since his "attack pose" was more like one for a dance than a ready stance. "But I'm always willing to try new things."

The assassin didn't seem to care. Instead, he brought both of his hand axes up, and swung in a cross chop meant to knock the fans aside and cleave the man on the other side through a vital point. Ironically, it was the fact that the man was so unprepared for the blow that probably saved him, as the impact not only smacked his arms aside but also sent him flying to the ground in surprise. He had to have not been bracing himself at all. At any rate, he didn't get a chance to breath. He barely had time to look surprised before the muscular assassin was on him, swinging his axes up and around and down to try and split his head or sternum in two. He soon shot out of the way, not even doing so "elegantly", to avoid this; but apparently he was at least limber and nimble enough to do so quickly. As large as the North American was, he was by no means slow, after all. He managed to scramble away from him and get his fans up, and also got back on his feet. A moment later, the North American struck again, nearly knocking his fans away and putting him down once more. This time, however, he managed to stay up as he staggered back, although his body still faltered and his arms lowered.

As the assassin moved in for another strike, he made something of a wild "arcing" gesture to swing his fan up and away. The blow connected a moment later and knocked his arm down, but it also seemed to connect in such a way as to shift to one side, partially deflecting the axe strike. As the large one came in and pressed on, the Japanese man took a step back and performed a similar arcing move with his other hand, only this time more fluid and straight. This time, he not only deflected the axe but held better against the strike. When a third one came, he shifted his moves again, this time making what looked like some sort of dance move to swing his fan up and inward and intercept the latest hit. By the time the fourth blow came, the Japanese man looked surprisingly controlled as he deflected yet another hit.

As the assassin reared back for a stronger blow, however, the Japanese man suddenly swung around in another move that looked like a performance and lashed out for his opponent's middle with the end of one of the fans. To the assassin's surprise, he had to abort his attack and move out, since the move was not only abrupt to him, but also aimed to cut deep across the muscular layer in a vital spot. Yet once he backed up, the man raised up his arms and performed a fanning out gesture which caused the assassin to back up even more. It may have been another dance move, but it also swept the open fans out wide, and after seeing one of the fans cut through a tree, he wasn't eager to touch the end of it. However, as soon as there was an interrupt, the man went further by slapping his fans together in a collapse, doing a spin move, and lashing out for the middle with one of them. They were almost like club sticks in that regard, although, considering they had an edge on them as well, they might have been deadlier than that. In response, the assassin quickly brought down his own axe to intercept.

The man began to advance. A bit choppy at first, but soon he was lashing out several times in succession with blows that seemed similar to dance moves. It had an interesting effect of always advancing or retreating with every move. Since he was used to it, that meant his opponent also had to constantly be on the move, so if they were trying to focus any blows they couldn't do so. Venom was a bit intrigued at how it looked like this man was turning a dance style into a fighting one, but his patience only lasted so long. This man was still infuriating him from what his actions did, and the North American was having too much trouble as it was.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw both of the remaining assassins getting ready to attack. Before either of them could possibly loose a weapon while this fight was going on, Venom held a hand out to them.

"Hold it."

Both of them looked to him, but saw nothing but his head aimed forward.

"This one's mine."

After saying that, he immediately moved again, back to where he had been hiding a moment ago. While the Japanese man had one of his fans deflected, only to immediately unfurl his other fan to deflect a counterattack from the large assassin, Venom himself soon found his signature pool case lying against the tree trunk. He immediately reached it, unlatched it, and cracked it open before dipping his foot in and making two gestures to knock either half of his cue into the air. He snatched either one out of it and quickly connected them, screwing them together with a few rapid movements.

Meanwhile, the two continued to fight. The assassin had gone from having the advantage to being more "even" now, and he was actually slipping a bit. Most assassins were used to killing with one blow, not having a drug out fight. And the amount of footwork that he was having to do in order to keep up with the new arrival was starting to tire him out a bit. As the fight went on, his axe strikes were parried with greater and greater ease. His opponent seemed to actually be doing _better_ as he figured out how to do so without causing much strain to himself. He was actually smiling again, seemingly impressed with his work. Finally, at one point, the larger assassin, getting frustrated, lashed out and swung a hatchet sideways at the man's head. In response, he nimbly ducked under it, letting it hit only air, and then swung one of his collapsed fans inward and into the man's side. Once again, it glowed for a moment before impacting around the kidney region, and a large snap resounded as a rib cracked, before the Native American cried in pain and staggered a moment. That was all the delay the dancer needed as he lashed out with his other fan and made what looked like a grand circle; tracing it through the air and making a sweeping motion around the big one's legs. Yet in spite of that, it seemed to be effective, for some sort of force appeared to rip out the assassin's legs from underneath him, and he fell back for a hard landing against the forest floor.

The man chuckled as he reared up again. "Wow…this is more fun than I thought it would be, once you get the hang of it."

The North American was a bit upset at that, but then began to rise, trying to ignore the pain in his side. Yet before he could get very far, the end of a pool cue shot out like a sword tip and braced in front of him. He looked up immediately to that and traced it to the source; seeing Venom now standing at his side. The dancer looked up in a bit of alarm himself, not having spotted him coming. The assassin choked up on his cue and began to swing it around similar to other thin clubs.

"You have no idea how bad of the wrong place and time you've winded up in." He coldly stated. "Or how much you just ruined. Since this was _my_ hit, I'm going to be the one who shows you what I _wanted_ to do to a certain someone before you came along."

He began to shift up on his cue, even as the North American rose and began to move back quickly. The other two assassins lowered their weapons and watched. This wasn't lost on the Japanese man. If anything, his own demeanor grew a bit more uncomfortable on seeing everything pull back. They were obviously giving this one room.

"Think you've got the hang of it?" Venom asked as he raised the cue. "Alright…then let's kick things up a notch."

In a flash, Venom went up into "pool shot" mode, but even as he did he waved his hand before him and, a bit to the visible surprise of the man with the fans, not one but two separate pool balls seemed to appear in midair and simply hover there. He barely had a chance to recognize that some sort of magic had been used before Venom aimed his cue forward and smacked them both so fast that he seemed to strike both with the same shot. There was a bit more than that, however. This man may have been a fast learner, but in terms of experience compared to Venom he was still far behind, and he was leaving his tarsals exposed. A moment later, either cue ball hit one of this hands, and struck them in just such a way that, to the man's shock, the fans flew out of his hands all together.

Venom didn't even give the Japanese man a chance to go open-mouthed in shock as he found himself disarmed. In a flash, he was darting at him with cue overhead swirling so fast it looked like a helicopter blade. He managed to react in time to look up and tried to backpedal, but he was panicking now and no longer as smooth as before. He managed to evade some of the impact, but not all of it as a sickening crack went out and his head went to one side before he staggered back, nearly knocked off balance. He managed to plant his feet and stand again, no doubt from whatever background his dancing offered him; but, in response, Venom quickly swung the fat end of the cue around and struck him across the opposite side of the head, causing him to shoot back even further.

Not wanting to drag this out, the assassin moved back on his cue and began to advance forward with it like an estranged rapier, thrusting out and trying to stab for him. It didn't matter that it was made of wood. Venom drove so fast and hard that shoving that blunt tip into this man's body would not be a problem. And he nearly did so with his first lunge. It was only due to the fact the man snapped his head up and went mostly into an instinctive retreat that he didn't get pierced. However, Venom continued to advance, and he, in turn, had to keep backing up. That worked just fine for Venom, as he heard either fan land on the ground behind him. He had realized by now most of what this guy had was in those. He wasn't sure what they were made of, but without him this guy wasn't much more than an overconfident dancer, and it wouldn't take long to deal with him…

Abruptly, the man made a move, and a rather good one. Since Venom was thrusting, the Japanese man suddenly darted straight for him. The intention wasn't to hit him, although it was getting rather close to do so. Rather, he was performing another strange dance move to try and slide right by him and get behind him. Effective, Venom thought, since he was thrusting with his cue rather than using it as a club. However, it wasn't good enough, and the assassin himself had picked up on the fact he'd probably make a move like this. Immediately, he twisted his leg just enough to extend his foot, and locked it around that of the Japanese man. A moment later, his eyes widened before he lost his balance and, in a much more un-graceful maneuver, spilled over to fall on his face.

Quickly, Venom reared around, yanking his cue back and choking up on it at the same time. Now it was time to end it. This wasn't much of a "stabbing weapon", but he lost count of how many times he drove his cue down into just the right spot on the back of someone's skull to pierce through to the other side…

But as he was still rearing back, for something this precise took a bit of "setup" even for him, suddenly the Japanese man sprung up on his legs, flipping his body over in a sort of "long legged" somersault. As he flipped, his hands went out to clutch the ground and hold himself in place before his legs came up and snaked for Venom, smacking into his own cue and deflecting it to one side. Yet that was only the start. One of his hands went up and out and, to Venom's surprise, attacked him in a rather "vulnerable" spot that had the distinction of never having been targeted before, mostly due to the fact that Venom rarely let an opponent get close enough for it as part of his style: his hair.

Before the surprised man could tell what was happening, the Japanese man seized his bangs, and gave a tug so abrupt and sharp he nearly tore the scalp.

Not expecting this and shocked as well by the sudden "dirty" tactic, Venom found his head yanked down so much that he nearly lost balance himself, and quickly had to force out a hand to stop himself before he lost his balance. He actually gave a mild cry of pain from the effort. That _hurt_. He had no idea such a childish tactic would actually be so painful… As for the Japanese man, he used Venom's own hair to yank himself back up to his feet, and soon he was dashing again straight for his fallen fans.

The assassin's irritation grew as he realized he had been evaded, but he wasn't about to let this slide. He too shot back up to his feet in an instant, even as he was unrolling his sleeve in another gesture. By the time he was back up and using his other arm to swing his cue around, a new ball slid out into Venom's palm. He quickly gave it a light toss to hold it in air just for a moment, then swung the cue around, put it in proper position with both hands, and knocked it, sending the small sphere shooting out and aiming for the small of the Japanese man's back, intending to snap the base of his spine this time.

He received another shock as the man's own dress sleeves suddenly swept up and around, the result of him doing some sort of elaborate spinning move. The fabric shot and rippled into the air, but more importantly lashed up and provided a sheer, slanted surface for the cue ball to "roll through". In spite of its power, enough force to break bones, the sphere was still deflected just enough to sail up and over the head of the Japanese man. What more, he hardly missed a beat as he came out of it and kept running.

Now the assassin was a bit more than irritated, although that was growing. He was surprised. He was adapting to him using that technique so quickly? The surprise cost him. By the time he snapped out of it enough to quickly start unrolling more cue balls and aim to fire them at him, he had fan snatched up and had gone for the other. Soon after, sharp cracks rang through the air as Venom fired a stream of balls in rapid succession at the man.

However, he seemed to learn too quickly to be caught a second time. As the balls went out for him, the Japanese man responded by fully unfurling one fan and then going to work deflecting them with just the right angle to send them flying every which way except to him. It wasn't hard, considering the orb nature of the projectiles and how they were meant to glide. Some went into the air. Some went into the ground and sank to the point of vanishing. Others flew every which way and landed in trees, actually smashing into them and sending out clouds of splinters. Yet before where the cue balls had stunned the Japanese man and caught him unprepared, he was adapting to them just as easily as he had adapted to the other assassins…

Finally, the Japanese man backed up enough to reach the other fan, and quickly lashed out with a foot to knock it into the air and seize it with his free hand. All while continuing to bat away the ballistic-like cue balls from Venom. The assassin couldn't believe it. Metal fan or no metal fan, that thing he was using to defend himself with should have been nothing but shredded wire by now after intercepting so many of his moves, yet he was still defending himself with it and it didn't have so much as a scratch, let alone a dent. What were those things? As he was thinking of that, however, the Japanese man was showing even more adaptation as he unfurled his second fan, brought it around in front of him, and then intercepted Venom's latest ball with both at the same time. To the assassin's surprise, he performed another one of those dance gestures, this time sweeping both fans out, to actually catch the cue ball, swing it around, and then send it right _back_ at him. Venom barely had a chance to think of how that was possible before he had to break his position and cross his cue in front of him. If it had been a standard pool cue made of nothing but wood and varnish it would have split it easily. As it was, he just managed to knock it off and to the side like a bunt.

Yet he received another surprise when he saw the Japanese man didn't use the opportunity to run or back down, but was actually charging him, swinging his fans inward at first until he reached him, and then lashing out and upward with both of them. Rather than look scared or nervous, the man was actually grinning. He seemed like he was enjoying this more than ever. And much to Venom's surprise, he actually knocked his cue up and out of the way, leaving his midsection exposed. A moment later, and the Japanese man was thrusting out with both fans in an attempt to nail him in the abdomen. Venom actually had to retreat to avoid taking a blow as the North American operative had.

The Japanese man continued his assault from here. Somehow, even in that brief window of opportunity, he had realized that Venom only really excelled when he either had his opponents off guard or at a range from his cue. Up close, he was at more of a disadvantage. His opponent tried to seize this by swinging forward, collapsing a fan and trying to bring it down on top of his head like a club. Venom responded by getting his own bearings, moving back to the middle of his cue, and then swinging it around to deflect the blow. He quickly moved in with a stab of his own; only to make contact with the opposite fan, spread out as a shield. It didn't even budge. If anything, it seemed to glow a moment to intercept the cue. After doing that, the Japanese man pushed the cue away with the unfurled fan and tried sweeping up with the other one in a manner analogous to an uppercut. While Venom may have not been struck by a fan yet, after seeing it cut through that one tree he didn't want to find out what would happen. He quickly side stepped to avoid it catching him under the jaw.

Growing both tense from having to fight a real battle as well as angry that this civilian was giving him so much trouble, Venom moved in using the cue more as a quarter staff; lashing out against the Japanese man's head from one side, then the opposite, and then trying to strike him in the hip joint. Yet his opponent was continuing to get better the more enthused he got, and he simply opened up his other fan and went to work deflecting him, first forcing the blows away from his head and then deflecting the hip shot. Once that was done, he brought both fans inward, swung them around like estranged saw blades, and lashed out and forward with them. Venom was again stunned and realized he was forcing him back again. Refusing to let it happen this time, he lashed out with the "cross" of his cue in an attempt to stop them. Luckily for him, the fans did made contact and held…but only at the expense of sparks. Again to the assassin's surprise, he saw his cue actually damaged from making contact with the fans.

Gritting his teeth beneath his hair, Venom swung his arms down and deflected the fans down, before launching forward in a small leap and giving a nimble kick toward the Japanese's man's face. It wasn't meant to do much damage, although it was supposed to do _some_. The main purpose was to get him to retreat. And it worked…even though the man was able to snap both fans free, swing them up and around, and intercept the kick before it could make contact with his face. To Venom's surprise, he could feel force pushing him _back_ from making contact with the fans, and he knew the Japanese man wasn't the one doing it. They had to be magical weapons of a sort…although that went without saying at this point. At any rate, since he took a step back, he gave Venom enough room for his next attack.

On landing, he quickly moved his hands back to the thicker diameter portion of his cue, and then launched an assault in a series of lightning fast stabs so quick it seemed as if Venom's cue had broken off into five separate weapons. He had actually been inspired by Rage to invent this move, having seen her use her hair in a similar way in the past. Even if the hits weren't accurate, the successive blows would normally make mincemeat out of bones and muscles. Each hit was powerful even if it wasn't aimed. Yet again, nothing went through. The man responded by unfurling both of his fans and spreading them in front of his face and torso. And even if these blows should have gone through a piece of sheet metal, they weren't doing anything to him. They weren't even producing clanging noises from contact.

Scowling, Venom finally broke off, and used the moment to spring back additional feet. After all, he was best at a distance with opponents, and he wanted to make sure he was far from this guy seeing as he made sweeping movements to quickly close any gaps. The moment he did, the Japanese man lowered his own arms and spread out his fans to his sides in what Venom could only assume was his version of a "ready" stance. Not only that, he was still smiling.

"Well, _this_ is interesting." He stated. "Not only am I pretty good at adapting to a fight, it seems the Zessen fans are as good as combat as they are as ornaments. No wonder they're national treasures… Good job on your end, by the way. I'm guessing you're a pretty 'tough opponent', yes?"

"What is your problem?" Venom retorted. "You're acting like a kid about all of this. I'm a high ranking member of the Assassin's Guild. Most people on Earth would be scared to death to be fighting me."

The smile faded as the man blinked. "Oh? Is that so?" He answered. "…I guess fighting's not as much of a big deal as I thought, then. This isn't as challenging as I thought it would be."

Venom's face beneath his hair began to turn red. He was treating him like a joke, like he was _easy_. Now he _really_ wanted to split this guy's head open. Unfortunately, it seemed those fans gave him room to boast. For now, his offense was sloppy, but with the fans his defense was top notch. He doubted he was even causing him any muscular strain, the way the fans seemed to "absorb" the power from every hit. He never saw any weapon like those before… So what was he supposed to do? Between his "dancing style" of fighting and the wide surfaces of the fans, how was he supposed to break this guy's defense? Assassins weren't meant to get in, do the pain, and get out. Not drag things out or do heavy, close-range melee… This guy _did_ seem to have more muscles than Venom. Nicer ones too…

Yet as he tried to plan his next move, something suddenly broke the silence of the forest other than their movements and breathing. The sound of a loud engine. Not only that, but there were the sounds of smaller trees snapping and breaking…clearly the result of some large piece of machinery moving over them and grinding them up. Yet that wasn't all. There were smaller engines coming in around it, obviously the sounds of a convoy or at least more than one vehicle. It was enough to not only make both Venom and the Japanese man look up and around, but the other assassins as well.

Soon after, a voice blared on a loudspeaker.

 _"_ _This is the IPF! You are in a restricted area! Throw down your weapons and come forward with your hands up!"_

Venom felt like swearing. He was so upset at this announcement that he didn't really seem to care when the man lowered his fans a bit and looked just as tense as him.

"Oh great…I guess they found me. That or they simply stumbled across me while looking for the Gear…or for you…"

"Now I've got even more reason to want to kill you." Venom retorted. "You've fixed this whole thing real good, didn't you, you f***ing idiot?"

"You're the one who wouldn't call out when I passed through. Besides, it seems like your lucky day. You weren't doing too well."

"I…what did you say?!"

"Once I got the hang of things, you didn't seem to have much of an advantage. Seems these fans kind of negated anything you could do to me."

"You smug little-"

"Anyway, I'd love to talk more but I'd rather test my skill against a Gear now." The Japanese man calmly cut off. "Thanks for the exercise though. I would have been so unaccustomed to battle it probably would have killed me instantly like it killed all the others thus far. Good day."

With that, the Japanese man turned and ran for it.

Venom actually took a step toward him, glaring angrily all the way. He nearly shouted out to him, but soon realized he didn't have that luxury. He looked forward and saw that the vehicles were now visible through the trees. There was a larger wagon that couldn't navigate that well, but they had smaller, armed and armored units alongside it that could. And after what had just happened, he and the others were out of sorts. Assassins were meant to strike and retreat, after all, not get in firefights with the IPF.

 _If I ever see that damn dancing idiot again I'm going to take his fans and shove them…_

Venom didn't bother finishing his thought. This was already a disaster as it was, but his primary concern was Rage. Even if this one individual had spoiled the whole trap, he had to focus on her and not him. With that in mind, he made a silent gesture to the other assassins looking to him for a command. Leaving their comrade behind, they turned and began to run off.

 _I don't care if he's worth more alive and given to a colony than dead. He's as dead as his country if I ever see him again…_

* * *

Ky didn't want to pause long here, in spite of the situation. Although the scale of damage was rather tremendous, and made him immediately think of the Gear escape, the spammers with the group confirmed that this wasn't the action of a Gear. It was an unusual energy reading, to be sure, but they weren't sensing any actual Gear signature. Certainly not one that matched either trace from the site earlier.

That said…he was still worried that something that was neither potential Gear out there had managed to _slice one of the trees in two_. He only knew of two things that could possibly do that. One of them was himself. The Thunderseal was strong enough that if he properly prepared and focused, he could actually perform that feat. As for the other…

 _I guess I should have known_ he'd _show up…_ He thought. _Terrific. I'm still not sure what to do with him when I see him next time…_

The convoy had stopped, although Ky gave them only three minutes. They probably couldn't even afford that long. Technically, this was probably something Ky should have been paying more attention to, considering the fact he was technically here as a result of looking for Millia Rage. Lots of blood, but only one individual here. He was in bad shape as Ky was currently watching him being loaded onto a gurney and hauled out to one of the ambulance trucks in the back, but the database revealed he was an Assassin's Guild member. Even if they patched him up his organization would probably have him killed before he could talk, but the fact that there had been a "spat" here indicated there was some sort of infighting going on. He wouldn't name Rage, however. This didn't look to be her type of crime scene. For one thing, she tended to leave less of a "mess". Someone else had to do it, and apparently someone strong.

He didn't think this would be Sol's cup of tea, however. And since he was the only other person Ky could think of that could possibly cut a tree like that, then that meant there had to be someone new out here…

"Captain!"

The officer turned his head, distracted from his thoughts, and was just in time to see one of the spammers running up to him.

"We've got something related to the Gears!"

In an instant, Rage, the Assassin's Guild, and Sol vanished from Ky's thoughts as he turned fully to him. "What is it?"

"It's a trace signature, but we can pin it down to a half-mile radius. It's only about thirty miles from here! They must have gone on the move. It's the only explanation as to why we could pick it up."

"Moving? Moving where?"

"North. Maybe North by Northeast."

Ky thought for a moment.

 _Adalwolf… It's moving to Adalwolf. Of course… It managed to pass for a human this long. It must realize we're coming in on it, that the Schwarzwald is surrounded by bounty hunters and police. So it's going to try and hide in plain sight. While everyone floods in to the west, cars and trucks move into Adalwolf and then try to unload in that way. It moves into the crowd…and it vanishes._

"We need to get there immediately." Ky answered, already turning to move back to the main truck. He turned his head up and began to motion. "Everyone, pack this up! Make a note for another team! We need to head it off!"

"Sir!" One of the officers from nearby shouted. "There's no way we can get everyone into position in time! We're the only unit that can make it there before it slips by!"

"Just radio everyone else to tighten it up as fast as they can!" Ky shot back. "Until then, we'll be handling it ourselves!"

No one seemed too comfortable to hear that. Fighting a Gear as a huge unit was one thing…but fighting one as a detachment was something else. The younger officers, in particular, looked very nervous. However, Ky was moving too fast and speaking too firmly to be denied. Reluctantly, they all broke and began to go about their work of preparing to move.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	12. Would-Be Saviors

**"** **Would-Be Saviors"**

* * *

Johnny could tell from her look that May really hated being back in a forest. After all, her last 'excursion' hadn't done so well, and she looked like she felt like ripping every tree root she saw to pieces. However, her leader was being just a bit more prudent than that. In fact, he was keeping a keen eye on the receiver that they took with them into the forest that connected back to April which, in turn, connected back to the May Ship. That was his "eye in the sky" and an asset beyond anyone else's, so he had to make good use of it. The signal was getting weaker and weaker as they went further in, but so long as he could still get a transmission he would use it as best as he could. He could only hope they had some luck in the regard as to being able to beat the IPF to the Gear. Technically, they had landed here hoping they could follow their lead and stay one step ahead, and his success ratio for moves like that was kind of hit and miss…

But what was fun about playing everything safe all the time?

Right now, he just hoped the receiver would stay in contact for a little bit longer; just long enough to clear up where the IPF was going. Things were getting too wild over in Hildebrant, but it seemed as if they were still carrying out the operation. Far fewer of them than before, fortunately…but still heading toward where they thought the Gear might be. Of course, what few were still going out there were likely the heavy hitters in the group. He was glad May was along. He hadn't just been facetious earlier, after all. The signal, however, was marginal. Any minute now that little bar on his readout could vanish.

Even as he thought of this, however, the radio gave a buzz. May snapped to him as he nearly dropped the receiver himself. He quickly put it to his head. "Talk to me, April."

 _"_ _Johnny, one of the IPF groups suddenly broke formation, best as I can tell with the May Ship sensors. They're making a direct course for one area in particular…and it looks like they're going to just about cross your path to get to it."_

"Heh…we're either incredibly lucky or incredibly unlucky, depending on how you want to look at it, eh?" Johnny grinned. "How far?"

 _"_ _You're ahead of where they're going…only about another three miles…but they'll be on you in ten minutes…"_

"Then we'll just have to beat them there, won't we?"

The voice on the other end didn't sound relieved. If anything, it grew more worried than before. _"Johnny…the IPF aircraft activity is picking up. The German government is joining in. We can't stay. In fact, I don't think we can even stand by to fly you out…"_

"Then get the ship and the crew clear. And when it's safe to come back, we'll be waiting for you…along with our 500,000 world dollar bounty."

April audibly gulped. _"But it could be days before we can get close as wild as things are around here! Especially if things keep heading north! Maybe weeks!"_

"Pft…it'll be just like Moscow all over again, April. And if I can hunker down in a snowbank for a week wearing nothing but this jacket, we can handle this. Don't worry about it."

 _"_ _Johnny…"_

"That's an order, April." The man suddenly stated; his voice actually turning just a hint sharper. It was enough to make the pirate on the other end of the line go silent. Johnny rarely spoke severely to any of the girls, but every once in a while he asserted his position of command.

 _"…_ _Aye sir."_ April reluctantly stated. _"The direction is east by southeast. Over and out."_

The transmission clicked off. Johnny took a moment to put it back more carefully inside his coat. After all, if that ended up getting broken, then he'd _really_ be in trouble, along with May. And while it was true that he had been stranded for long periods of time before, he really didn't want things to go south and have May end up getting hurt. At any rate, he could only hope that the Gear would indeed listen to reason.

If not…well, he had kind of stretched the truth before at the thought of both him and May able to handle it…

"Alright, here's the big moment. Looks like the IPF is moving in to try and intercept it, and we're 'ahead of the wave'. This is our chance. Let's move out."

However, before he could switch from a marching gait to a running one, May reached out and put a hand on his arm. "W-Wait a second, Johnny!"

The pirate stopped and looked back to her, a bit puzzled. "What's wrong?" He cracked a grin. "My first mate's not getting 'cold feet', is she?"

May flustered a bit, as that was a minor blow to her ability. "Wha…no! I'm just…uh…that is…I mean…um…" She paused for a moment, looking like she was trying to get something out…or, more appropriately, trying to think of something to say. She was actually sweating a bit. Johnny raised an eyebrow from behind his shades at this, but before he could press it, May looked up and practically sputtered. "W-Why don't I go straight and you go east?"

Johnny looked confused. "What? May, if we go straight we should head straight for the Gear…"

"W…W…Well…that's my idea!" She suddenly outburst. "I'll flush it north, away from where the IPF is coming in, and then you can clobber it! That way we can fight it without having to worry about the police nipping at our heels. Smart idea, eh?"

The man hesitated. "…This is dangerous, May. You've already run into one of them alone before. I don't really count on one of us alone being able to-"

"No, I can do it!" May answered. "I…I learned all its moves! Yeah! So I know what to do! And come on! I'm supposed to be the best member of your crew! The least I can do is drive it north! I mean…we won't have enough time otherwise, will we? The IPF will get us even if we get the Gear first, right?"

Johnny wasn't _so_ carefree that he didn't realize something was up, although the reason for May doing such a thing still escaped him. He could tell she was hiding something and he was afraid it might be one of her more "scatterbrained" ideas. It didn't help matters that this place had a lot of bounty hunters in it right now, which was part of the reason he was always loathe to let May go solo. Even if they didn't recognize her as a pirate, anyone who looked close enough might realize she was from a certain region of Asia…

"Please, Johnny! After screwing up on Great Britain, I want to show you I'm still your best mate!"

The man in black held a bit longer, but finally formed a slight smile. "You don't have to prove that to me, May. I know you are…which means I count on you not to do something reckless. Just make sure you pull out if things get too hairy, alright?"

"Oh, thank you!" May immediately outburst, grinning from ear to ear and cupping her hands to her mouth in joy. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! You don't know how much this means to me personally! I mean…I'll see you around!"

Hefting her huge anchor over her shoulder, she turned and took off into the woods. Johnny, on his part, gave her a smile as he crossed his arms and simply watched her go. He continued to stand there and wait as she went further and further, until she vanished from sight and sound.

After that, he counted off about ten more seconds, and then took off after her.

 _You almost got yourself killed back on Great Britain, May. Sorry, but you're still on "probation" for that._

* * *

The motorcycle suddenly dropped speed. Not long after, it came to a halt, which wasn't hard considering the uneven terrain. Chipp was more than happy about that. Not only had this been a rather rough ride, but he was grateful to take his hands off to stop looking like a panicked idiot. If it wasn't for his training increasing his balance, he never would have been able to even hang on. However, he got a bit of a surprise a second later when Sol switched off the engines all together.

Chipp looked to him in confusion. "Why did we-"

"Keep your voice low." Sol cut off. His own tone was quiet, and yet still seemed to have so much force that the ninja clammed up in an instant. "We've very close now."

Chipp paused and looked around. He hadn't been able to hear much on the motorcycle, but now that he could he was a bit surprised to hear the sounds of loud fighting far in the distance. However, that was all far behind them, echoing through the understory. Up ahead, there was only silence…yet that was what Sol was fixed on.

"Are you sure?" He asked, keeping his voice low as told. "I can't hear anything."

Sol didn't bother answering. Instead, he threw down the magnetic kickstand and began to dismount the motorcycle, reaching over to take up his bandaged sword with it. Chipp tensed on seeing that. In their previous fight, Sol didn't even bother using his sword. The fact that he was taking it with him meant he must have picked up on _something_ hostile. At any rate, the bounty hunter didn't advance far. He only slowly walked out a bit in front of the motorcycle, making only the dullest crunching noise on the leaves beneath him, which was impressive enough considering how many were starting to fall at this point in the year, and then looked out. Chipp, in spite of wanting to know what was going on, held his tongue and waited as he stared out for a few moments. Again, he heard nothing, and he knew for a fact that after his training his senses were sharper than most. He couldn't see any movement either. Nothing more than the wind blowing a bit.

Finally Sol answered. "Stay here and make sure no one comes this way."

The ninja frowned. "No way. I didn't tag along with you just to be treated like a damn kid. I thought we were supposed to be working together to get to that Gear first."

"We are. And part of that, as you recall, is to keep the Gear from killing anyone as well. Hence, you need to stay here and make sure no one else gets close to it."

"…You're kidding me. You brought me out all this way just to do 'crowd control'?"

"I wasn't sure how I'd make use of you." Sol answered without turning. "But it seems that's the biggest use you can be. You _are_ a ninja, are you not?"

The momentary ego boost caused Chipp to pause, but only for a moment. "Screw this. I didn't come all this way to-"

"I don't have time to argue the point." Sol cut off. "You can either do this or I can disable you as easily as last time so you don't interfere."

The young man's face tightened into a frown. However, he knew full well Sol wasn't lying. Letting out a sigh, he crossed his arms.

"…I suppose if you put it on that footing, I don't have a choice. But how do I know you weren't just using me up until now and you want that money? You _are_ a bounty hunter, after all."

"You don't." Sol simply responded.

"…Let's try something else, then. All the fighting has got to be miles from here. You really think anyone will come by?"

"If we came this far, there's a good chance others were keen enough to do the same. And my guess is they'll be here shortly if they come at all. But for their sakes as well as the Gear's, keep them away."

Without another word, he took off into the forest. Chipp was honestly taken aback at the sight. Before, he had only seen Sol move at "regular" speed. Now that he was running, he easily surpassed the ninja's own gait. No wonder he was able to beat him so easily last time. The thought honestly was a blow to his pride.

 _Damn him… He better not just be getting me out of the way. Otherwise I'm going to find a way to beat the crap out of him if it's the last thing I do…_

Giving a bit of a grumble, Chipp leapt skyward for the nearest low-hanging branch that would hold his weight. That wasn't as hard as one would think considering his skill. Nevertheless, he wasn't much of a fan of this forest. As a ninja, it should have been easy to move around in the canopy without being seen, but the fact of the matter was he was still better suited to moving around an urban landscape, not to mention the fact that the last time he tried ambushing someone from a tree it hadn't worked out so well. He _did_ have one thing going for him. He could be unseen if he wanted. At least he assumed he could. Sol had spotted him easily enough before and he hoped that was just due to him being "good" rather than his own skill being inferior…

By the time he went up enough in the partially-collapsed canopy that he felt he was well hidden but could still see below easily, there wasn't a trace of Sol left. But that only figured. After all, Sol had been practically silent within a hundred feet from Chipp's location, a fact that was not lost on the ninja. He thought he'd be able to keep track of him from farther than that, and once again he wasn't sure if it was because the bounty hunter was so good or it was because his own technique was so pitiful. He hoped it wasn't the latter case… At any rate, he didn't go too far from this spot. Just enough to distance himself from the motorcycle. On one hand, he didn't want to be near any object that made anyone look around more intently. On the other, he knew the motorcycle would be a signal flag if anyone _did_ come along.

Yet as he settled in and grudgingly began to wait, he still thought this was dumb. Sol and the Gears may have been one thing, but he was pretty certain he could hear anyone coming from a distance. The fighting had to be farther away. It sounded almost like a war zone from his position. The IPF had to have everyone's hands full. True, the sheer volume of bounty hunters that had come to the Schwarzwald made it nearly impossible that they could stop everyone, but even if they did this forest was immense enough to where they could go anywhere. Why go in the one direction where the Gear might actually be? Assuming the Gear _was_ in this direction to begin with? He would have to admit that he was tempted to believe Sol after spending this time with him, but even so why would anyone else know where it was supposed to be?

Chipp's thoughts paused here. He began to hear a new noise over the sound of falling leaves and the occasional breeze. Panting.

At once, the ninja snapped to attention. To be honest, Chipp was slightly taken aback. He had figured that the bounty hunter and himself were far ahead of everyone else, but Sol had run off a couple minutes ago at the most, and someone was already headed here? Furthermore, he was a bit encouraged to see his senses hadn't let him down yet. Sol might have been keener even than the ninja, but this breathing would have easily been too faint to pick up for anyone else over the sound of the crunching leaves. It wasn't coming right for this direction, either. It was a bit further south.

With that in mind, he arose and took off. Using his own training, he was more silent than the falling leaves as he sprung off of his branch and leapt to one in an adjacent tree. He was so quiet that he heard the sound of panting even over his own movements. And his senses were sharp enough that it didn't take him long at all to plan an intercept course for where this individual was. He was a bit short on throwing stars at the moment, but that didn't matter. Sol had been lucky back in England. In his native element, he could be just as silent with his wrist-mounted blade as he could be with a projectile. He already began to ready it as he saw movement ahead breaking through the understory, his eyes preparing a target.

Yet he found himself stopping a moment later when the figure emerged into his full view.

He saw a girl in a pirate outfit with orange coloration and a huge anchor over her shoulder running as fast as she could.

Chipp remembered her-another person from England. His "cellmate", as it were. What was she doing here? Well, that was clear enough. She was obviously going for the bounty. If she had been in England looking for the wish, the same as him, then this money had to be a tempting target. He knew enough from their brief time together that she had to be some sort of outlaw. Normally, that would have been enough for him to attack right here and now. He had no love for criminals after the cowardly way Tsuyoshi died. And yet, he simply watched as she ran by and proceeded onward.

 _…_ _This is awkward._ He had to admit to himself. _It's probably just foolishness on my part, but seeing as we kind of helped each other get out of that room alive, I don't really have it in the heart to just strike her down. Technically, Sol never said I needed to kill anyone who came by, though… I suppose I could just go for straight incapacitation. Still, this doesn't feel too right. As annoying as she was, I'm actually a bit relieved to see she made it out of England ok… Anyway, knock it off, Chipp. Just give her an easy blow to the pressure point and she'll nap for the next twelve…huh?_

The ninja was nearly surprised by what he saw next, as, to his astonishment, a second individual ran in more or less the same direction and path as the girl. What caught Chipp the most off guard about that was that he managed to do so without alerting him. That was practically unheard of. True, he had been distracted thinking about the pirate with the anchor, but normally anyone else would have made more than enough noise. This one, some man-in-black with a hat and shades, didn't make any audible sound until he was running right past the ninja. In a moment, he turned his full attention to him and nearly forgot the girl.

 _Who's this guy? Another bounty hunter? He definitely looks more dangerous than the girl, that's for sure. …He also looks like he's following her. This path he's taking is a bit too direct to simple be 'going her way'._

 _I think it might be better to take him out first._

These two individuals were running full speed through the canopy on even ground, but that speed was almost irrelevant to a ninja even when his terrain was nothing more than tree branches. In a moment, Chipp was up and blazing along through the canopy without disturbing anything other than leaves that were already falling. Although his thoughts had given this man in black a chance to get a brief lead on him, it didn't take much longer for Chipp to come up behind him and keep an even pace. Before going any further, he ran with him a bit longer. First of all, he _wanted_ him to lead him closer to Sol and the Gear. Second, he was making sure he hadn't suspected anything, and was checking out his gestures and mannerisms to see if he was bracing himself for an attack. Before he struck, he wanted to make sure his opponent didn't see it coming, after all. Luckily, after only a few moments, he could see the individual was unaware of the shadow he had picked up. It was time to make his move.

Chipp cared little for this one, but he'd still show mercy. He raised one of his arms to inflict a pressure point blow and zeroed in on his neck. After running a second more to get to a good branch, he launched himself off of it and dove head-first for the man in black's exposed rear, namely the neck region. A moment later he lashed out and struck…and was surprised at the result.

His hand hit an odd gold coin instead.

There wasn't a piece of coinage on Earth that could make an effective shield against one of Chipp's blows, but he could have almost sworn, for a split second, a coin had not only been thrown at him to counter him, but thrown in such a way with such force that hitting the coin was like hitting a brick wall. He actually felt his body push up against his arm as he collided into it. At the same time, the man in black moved in a practical flash. Chipp barely had a chance to see him move before he pivoted, snapped around, and let his own inertia drag him a bit further before he came to a halt. As for the ninja, he quickly flipped off of the coin and backward, landing on the forest floor himself. Only on touchdown did he realize he had made another mistake. He should have launched himself back into the canopy before the man in black had a chance to see where he came from. Another rookie mistake, but nothing for it now.

For a moment, the man looked tensed, before he grinned.

"Smooth move, son. I didn't even hear you coming until almost the last minute. A split second later and you would have stabbed me through the back."

Chipp frowned. "Then you saw less than what you think, because I wasn't trying to stab you. At any rate, get lost. This area is off limits."

"Oh really?" The man in black chuckled. "Well, even if you were wearing an IPF badge, which you aren't, the law and myself don't really, how do we say, see eye-to-eye. I've got someone to look out for."

The ninja hesitated. Could he mean the girl? Only now did he realize this man had a skull on his hat. While not too much of a match, it did go with the emblem the girl wore. Perhaps they were the same kind of outlaw. At any rate, he didn't move.

"Very well. Stand aside and I'll disable her and leave you to get her later. Whether she's an ally of yours or you have a grudge doesn't matter to me. You can settle this elsewhere."

"Oh, no can do, son." Johnny answered, holding up a gloved hand and shaking his finger. "You see, I've got more business than her to look out for…and since you just made it clear that you want to knock out my first mate…well, that kind of puts you on my list of not-too-favorite-people thus far. So, allow me to give you a counter-proposal…" He said as he brushed aside his coat, revealing what looked like a bokken, which he quickly moved out front and into one hand. " _You_ get out of here before I'm forced to ruin that hair style of yours. You must have spent a lot of time on it, after all."

Chipp's eyes widened at that response, before his brow creased in anger. "You should know something about who you're talking down to before you insult them. I only tried to knock you out back there. If I had tried to kill you, I could have. You admitted you didn't see me come until it was nearly too late. My speed is more than yours, old man."

The man in black froze for a second, before one of his eyebrows raised beneath his sunglasses. He didn't smile.

"…Old man?"

"You're the one who keeps calling me 'son'."

"…I guess you're right." The man in black quietly answered, his tone indicating that a quiet rage had just been unleashed with that insult. "And on that note, since you seem to think you can 'disrespect your elders', how about coming at me and seeing just how badly I 'spank you'?"

The ninja paused, his own eyes narrowing a bit. Truth be told, he felt just a bit more insulted on hearing that, but not enough to get truly irritated. Just enough to want to shut him up.

"I don't have time to drag this out. So if you don't want any of my cuts to hit vitals, I suggest you stand there and 'take it like a man'."

In a flash, Chipp took off for him. Although it wasn't in the "traditional" sense. Rather, he dashed only a few steps before shooting forward in a slide. Although the forest floor was rough and uneven, it didn't seem to matter a moment later as he sailed right for the man in black, his blade already up and aimed for his mid-section. While he didn't plan on piercing anything vital, he did intend for the stab to stop him in an instant. And at this speed and angle, he knew from experience as well as Tsuyoshi's training that there were none who could deflect it completely. Therefore, he was more than a bit surprised when the man in black snapped his hand around and pushed upward on the handle with his thumb, causing a blade concealed within the bokken to be revealed for a split second…just long enough to intercept the blade.

Chipp was stunned. _The hell?! He's not even Sol and he was that fast?_

Luckily for the ninja, he didn't allow himself to be caught off guard by this. In fact, after having already been stopped by Sol once, he quickly followed up by nimbly springing forward and ripping his blade arm upward at the same time, aiming to slice at the face of the man. The shaded individual may have been fast to block his one-hit stroke, but he soon saw his composure falter a bit as he stepped backward, reacting far more slowly; almost enough to confuse Chipp. Still, the ninja kept his focus and extended his blade again as he came down, this time hooking it as he landed in a path for the head of the man in black. This forced him to definitely retreat to avoid it. And with his footing now in Chipp's advantage, the ninja quickly advanced with a rapid dual slice, by first swinging his elbow out to slash at him, and then to follow back up with a reverse movement to hook with the same blade. The man deflected the first blow with his bokken, not drawing the concealed blade this time, but he actually gave a start as Chipp swung back around with the end of it and hooked it, nearly prying it out of his grasp. Even on doing so, his arm was still jarred out of the way, and the ninja seized that moment by swinging around in a pivot and driving his palm forward. Somehow, the man in black managed to twist just enough to have him miss the pressure point under the ribs, but even when the blow struck his sternum, he learned the hard way that Chipp not only possessed speed by power as he was driven back further.

To be honest, the ninja almost felt like smiling. While most opponents would have been downed by now, the fact that he was clearly keeping the man in black on his toes was an ego boost after his humiliations against Sol. He continued to dart forward with numerous rapid slashes, and his opponent was too slow to even block half of them, forced to continue to back up. At the bare minimum, he was affording himself the chance to block sword stabs with more erratic moves, but that only left him vulnerable to two additional palm strikes as he backed up further. True enough, his balance was good, and he seemed to keep it as he was forced to back up along the ground. Yet he wasn't showing near the speed he did when he blocked his initial two attacks. At one point, he managed to get enough of an opening, in spite of Chipp's assault, to suddenly seize the top of his bokken with his other hand and launch out with a slash so quick it was like a flash of light. Yet the ninja expected this, and in spite of the sword's larger reach he quickly backflipped out of range, letting the blade hit only air.

Like a crack of a whip, Chipp immediately countered by shooting forward again, nearly dashing along the ground, and aiming his blade for the man in black's head. He couldn't really read his expression behind the glasses, but he thought he registered some surprise as he quickly raised the handle of his weapon up to deflect the attack to one side. It was nearly too late, for his sword made contact and sliced open a small cut on his cheek. Even without it, however, Chipp was ready. He mostly did that move to stun him, and quickly lashed out with his other hand for the neck pressure point. He didn't quite manage to catch him off guard, for he still managed to move his head, but he also made contact, causing the man in black to not only give an aborted cry as he stumbled back, but a lot of his body seemed to "limp", as if he got a numbing jolt from it.

For a moment, Chipp thought he had been successful and as a result backed off. Yet although the man in black stumbled a bit and recoiled, he kept his feet underneath him. He realized he must have just missed it and only giving him a "crippling" blow, not an incapacitating one. At any rate, the man soon had to struggle just to stand upright after taking that.

"I just hit you in the nerve, so I'm guessing I just took half of the fight out of you." The ninja stated. "Thinking of throwing in the towel now?"

The man in black grunted a moment, but then reached out one of his free hands to his shoulder. He grasped it in pain momentarily, and slowly stiffened and stood up straight. In spite of that, he managed a grin. "Hardly. Not after that warm-up."

Chipp looked a bit puzzled, but then snorted. "Give it up, man. I didn't hit you that hard yet and you're tough enough…but you just saw I can run rings around you. The fastest move you can make is drawing your sword, but that's all you've got."

"Sorry to correct you," He answered as he kept grinning. "But us 'old folks', as you put it, got a little more than speed on our side. I haven't lasted this long not being able to read opponents really quickly. And I can say with some confidence I'm ready to give you that 'spanking' right about now."

Chipp frowned, and immediately took off once again. It wasn't the same move as before. This time, he slid forward at first, but ended with a leap and a twirl, swinging his arm blade around and aiming a cut at the man's torso. Again, it wasn't meant to be fatal but it wasn't meant to cut through deep enough and exploit his nerve pinch to cause enough trauma to make him black out.

Yet to his astonishment, the man moved in advance to bring his bokken up and intercept the blow. It wasn't erratic this time either. Instead, he almost seemed to know the move in advance when he stopped it.

Surprised as Chipp was by this turn of events, he assumed it was just him once again displaying one of his "bursts of speed" and wouldn't last. He quickly landed on the ground and rushed forward again, this time with his elbow protruding to go for a stabbing move with his blade arm. Yet this time, the man in black only stepped back slightly and, once again, seemed to move in advance before he swung his bokken out to deflect it to one side. The ninja was surprised again, but also encouraged when he saw him leave himself wide open as a result, and he quickly launched a kick at his exposed side to try and weaken him further. Yet not only did the man in black lose his signs of weakness, but he simply pivoted around in advance and deflected the kick with his bokken. By now, in spite of being surprised at his speed, Chipp had been somewhat expecting his and quickly drove his palm inward, trying to catch him off guard again…only to see another one of those coins suddenly get snapped out, apparently out of nowhere, right at him; and one making contact with it with his palm, the force was once again strong enough to negate his own blow, stopping him cold.

 _What the hell…?_

Gritting his teeth and feeling his frustration grow, Chipp quickly darted in and swept up with his blade, hoping to at least catch the man off guard to open him up again. But, again, seeming to move before he even decided on his move, the man in black swept his arms around and grasped his bokken with both hands, catching the slice and exerting enough focus and power this time to actually deflect it. A moment later, he drove it forward like one bunting with a baseball bat, and Chipp felt a smack of pain break out across his face as the bokken collided with him, causing him to stumble backward a few steps. In spite of that, he managed to regain his footing rather quickly and snap back to the man, which was a good thing because he was already advancing. Yet his speed was still so slow that Chipp had enough time to renew his offense before he could launch his own attack. First, he swung his blade out once at him, not really intending to get through this time, but instead trying to perform a "preemptive move". As he hoped, the man in black answered by swinging out with his bokken to deflect it, and left him open again. This time, instead of using his blade, Chipp followed up with his fists and feet, launching two punches with either hand followed up with a double kick with his dominant leg. Perhaps his sword was acting too much as a lever and was too telegraphed…

To his astonishment, it was like the man could read moves in advance. Sure, his bokken was to one side, but he quickly swung his other arm around and made it a bar, letting Chipp's fist slam into the forearm. And although the ninja was stronger than the average person due to his magic, apparently the same went for the man in black as his arm only quivered a bit from the blow. A moment later, that same arm swung down and deflected his next punch, just as he brought up his bokken again. Once more shifting his hand to grip the weapon with both hands, he quickly crossed it in front of him to intercept both kicks.

Feeling his anger surge, Chipp swung out with his blade again, this time sweeping for the man's face, his blows going from meant-to-incapacitate to meant-to-injure. In response, the man ducked underneath the slashes, letting the sword sail harmlessly overhead both times. However, the ninja had been hoping for this in a sense, and quickly sprang back just long enough to get a build-up for another one of his "dashing slashes". A moment later, he took off again, using the same move as he opened with, a combination of a sliding kick as well as a stab with his blade. At the man in black's current position, he hoped to catch him off guard faster than he could react even if he was somehow reading his moves.

However, again he seemed to be too fast for him. He didn't bother with dodging this time. Instead, he swung his bokken around and aimed the main shaft of it out and forward, driving it in a jab. Chipp realized in an instant, coupled with his forward movement, it would make for a painful hit if it landed…possibly even debilitating. Somehow, he managed to make his move abort, but not enough to spare him all pain. He found the end of the weapon coming forward and driving down into his gut. Naturally, being struck by something so hard and small was far from being able to "ignore", and soon agony radiated from the point of impact into his insides. Chipp made a cry of pain before he quickly reeled back, struggling to use the impact to at least go back and rise…

Yet still the man in black wasn't done, as in a moment he yanked his bokken back, seized the end with his other hand, and snapped out. He may have only had one "fast" move, but he was doing it now, and while the ninja was stunned and nearby.

Chipp had no time to be fancy. The pain and blow had left him partially stunned, and so he could do nothing else but the most abrupt panic move he could make. He suddenly pushed off of his legs and forced himself into a backflip to try and clear out of the way of the strike. It was erratic and off balance due to his weakened torso, but he still managed to launch himself into not one but two to rapidly gain distance on the man in black. Even so, he felt a hot pain flash across him. For a moment, he feared he had been too slow…that he had been caught…

An instant later, he landed again, and quickly snapped his body into a ready position, keeping his blade arm in front of him. He actually panted a bit now, from anxiety more than exhaustion. He continued to feel hot pain, but not debilitating. He looked down at his body and saw that he had a shallow cut stretching from one shoulder partially across his chest, soaking through his clothing. He had gotten back just in time. Still, now he had pain both from that as well as his abdomen.

After a moment, he looked up to the man in black as he rose again. He had a bit of a smirk on his own face now. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm afraid I wasn't 'grasping my nerve in pain' back there after that failed strike against my pressure point."

Chipp registered greater surprise. "You know how to negate a move like that?"

"In my line of work, you pick up a lot of things." He answered as he adjusted his sunglasses.

The ninja frowned. "…Like how to read moves in advance?"

"Nah, that's just experience. I'll admit, you got me outdone in speed, but you don't have too much practice fighting with it. You're barely an intermediate with even half of your moves. I can pretty much guess your pattern before you even do it. Kind of sad, really."

On hearing this latest taunt, Chipp's anger flashed again. For a moment, he even forgot his desire to keep from performing killing strokes. A moment later, he launched himself off once again, this time in a more "full height" slide, aiming his weapon right for a diagonal cut across the man in black. However, in spite of his anger at the insult, he soon saw that not only was he not bluffing about predicting his moves…he wasn't "humoring" him anymore either. In a flash, his bokken was up and drawn, and another cut went headed for him. The ninja was forced to abort his move in a hurry and use his own blade to guard himself. That, as a result, soon showed him another problem he had with his opponent when he felt his wrist bracer wrenched and his body actually recoil almost from the blade as it made contact. This opponent may have been slower, but he also had a lot more power behind his blows.

What more, the man in black immediately advanced after this, actually going into a dash of his own as he ran straight at Chipp. He had already returned his sword to his sheath, but seeing as the wooden bokken had yet to even get a scratch on it, that was hardly an aid to the ninja as he began to swing out with both hands on the weapon, attempting to strike repeatedly; first aiming at his hip, then at his injured shoulder with short cuts. The ninja was forced to parry these, realizing they weren't "random" but were aimed for joints, and the ones he was putting the most weight on. And this was hard because his blade's position was meant for pressing an offense, not a defense…

Suddenly, the man in black swung his weapon out and upward, catching the ninja's own blade while in a bad position and managing to knock it high and out of the way. In a flash, he yanked his weapon back and moved to drive it forward, right into the previous injury. Although he had negated the last blow to his stomach, he was still weak from it and knew he couldn't take another hit there without a handicap. So, using his own advantages, he quickly sprang into the air, launching himself not only over the bokken but over the head of the man in black. His eyebrows actually raised as the ninja went up. A moment later, he shot back down to the ground, swinging his blade around and over him to do a vertical slice against the taller opponent. Yet again, he was thwarted as he answered by snapping his arms up and crossing them over his head. Not only did he catch the blade, but he used his own power to fling Chipp clean over his head, much to the ninja's shock.

A moment later, Chipp used his own skill to quickly come out of the overhead flip and land on both feet on the other side-only to realize he had his back to the man with shades, and that he was snapping around already. His senses were keen enough to detect _that_ , at least. He quickly launched himself forward, barely missing him as he snapped around and slashed out with his sword in another lightning-fast cut, slicing a rift straight through a dead log located on the forest floor where the ninja had been. Yet as soon as Chipp had managed to leap out of the way and touched down on the ground again, he used his momentum to launch himself off and back at the man in black yet again, trying to move faster than ever this time to finally land a hit…

No such luck. The sword was already back in its sheath, and he brought it up to intercept and guard against the blade. The two held and clashed for a moment, Chipp gritting his teeth and pushing in as hard as he could. Unfortunately, the larger man in black stood his ground, not budging and barely having his arms quiver.

"If you're thinking of outdoing me in terms of power, you might as well give up now." He stated without even showing strain on his voice. "Speed is your advantage; not strength. How about instead of trying to outdo me like this, you take my advice and try giving me something I don't expect?"

This only fueled the anger of the ninja more than before. Quickly he broke off and tried slashing at the man in black again. However, just as easily as before, he intercepted each strike. Not only that, but he flung his weapon aside each time, trying to give an opening for him to counter. By now, Chipp was moving hard and fast enough to recover before he could, but at the expense of tiring himself out. He continued to try and slash, but the man in black simply blocked and deflected each one while stepping back. If anything, he looked like he was trying less and less…

Chipp was so infuriated he was about ready to bring out his "real" power into his slices, even if it would deplete his stamina in an instant…

When he could almost feel Tsuyoshi in the back of his mind slapping him in the back of his head.

 _You drug-addled fool… What do you think you're doing? Your anger is only making you easier to predict!_

Remembering that from his old master, Chipp's anger abated a bit in a moment of clarity. Annoyed as he was at this opponent, the memory had a point. He was only being more predictable the more raw power and speed he tried to use. He needed something different. Of course, that wasn't easy in and of itself. He essentially had to unlearn one of his moves and try to do something he hadn't practiced…

The man in black continued to deflect Chipp's blows for a bit longer, which was easier now that he was moving slower and with less power. Finally, after one slash, he managed to knock Chipp's weapon wide and to one side, leaving his torso open. Quickly, he began to move to draw his sword again and take advantage of it…

When, suddenly, the ninja did something unorthodox. It wasn't nearly as focused as his other blows, but suddenly he leapt into the air, launched out with a kick, and stopped the man by nailing him under the chin. While it was only light, it did get through. It smacked his head up and stunned him. A moment later, Chipp followed up with a second kick, this one aimed at his own gut, which soon connected and sent him staggering back two steps. It was enough to get the ninja free, so he quickly sprung back and took the moment to catch his breath. After all, he had spent a lot of stamina on that last assault.

As for the man in black, his discomfort looked only minor, but he had definitely taken a bit of pain. He paused a moment to regain himself before he smiled at the ninja.

"Now that's more like it. Actually making your speed an asset again…" He stated. "Still, you've already wasted a lot of 'oomph', and these new moves of yours don't have half the bite of your standard ones. I still say you're better off surrendering now, because your odds aren't that good."

He crossed his bokken in front of him again.

"But since I know you won't do _that_ , I guess we'll see just how good they are, eh?"

* * *

May had thought she heard something behind her that sounded a bit like fighting, but if there was any part of her brain that cared, it only pushed her on harder. This was her chance to try and fight that Gear on her own and at the moment she was so intent on seizing the chance that she had forgotten how poorly her last encounter with a Gear had gone. She was only obsessed with getting far from anyone else who could seize the Gear and then getting that bounty for herself.

Soon the sounds of battle had almost faded. It was a bit odd, to be sure, but probably not the result of overall "distance". More like she had slipped into a part of the forest that grew older and thicker, or had some quality about the lay of the land, to nullify the echoing. Sure enough, as she went on a bit further, it seemed as if the leaves on the ground "thinned out", with more leaves still on the trees and some even bearing a touch of greenery to them yet. All of this was lost on her, however. All she could focus on was the fact that less battle noises meant she was more by herself…which meant that she had a better chance of having the Gear all to herself out here. She nearly grinned at the thought. If that thing could just show itself, then she'd have this in the bag.

After a few moments more, she came upon something: a stream. It was almost dried out this time of year, but it had carved out a ravine on the opposite shore and there was still some water in it. This made May grind to a halt momentarily, and look about it a bit. She soon saw there was a lot of debris on the shore on the shallow side, where she stood, but on the opposite there was a rather high wall of earth and not one she could scale easily either. It didn't take long for her to scowl.

 _Terrific… This thing is nothing for a Gear to jump over, but I can't climb it dragging my anchor with me! Gotta hurry up and find a way around fast…_

Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be any readily-accessible paths. To her right she clearly saw nothing except the ravine getting worse. It appeared to get a bit better on the left, but definitely not scalable in her range of vision. With a groan, she hoisted her anchor and quickly ran that way, hoping she had picked the right direction for a level enough piece of ground for her to get over.

As she ran along, her side of the shore soon grew more uneven and hilly, between the dips and "cuts" in the landscape from a past spring flood as well as the debris, it was soon hard to even clearly see all of the stream at any one point let alone the opposite shore. It made her nearly want to break down in screaming or tears. She had come this far, finally had a chance to get the Gear all to herself, and now she was going to be stopped by the _landscape_ of all things? This was turning into England all over again. She had to wander forever through a dang forest there too before she got-

"Wh…WAAH!"

Suddenly, May stumbled forward. She hadn't watched her step and drove one of her boots right into a burrow of a river creature as she descended an escarpment on her side of the stream, and spilled forward as a result. Considering the fact she was lugging such a huge anchor with her, she nearly tripped and fell over completely. She managed to drag her feet out and plant them under her just in time, but even so she got quite a shock from the experience and surprise. Her heart was racing as she finished stumbling to the bottom of the escarpment.

After a moment, her face turned livid, and she spun around in rage. "Damn forest! Damn stream! Damn stupid otter-thing digging a-"

She stopped in mid-speech, her anger abating and turning to surprise.

Standing within the escarpment, unseen before now due to May's position, and now looking at her a bit nervously, was a young woman.

She was half-cringed at the moment, her arms drawn in toward herself and her bright-brown eyes looking fearful, almost like a child would look at a stranger they ran into in the middle of nowhere. She was dressed incredibly simply, in cheap white and black boots a bit stained with river mud, and a long black one-piece dress with a white fabric trim covering her. Her hair was a dark blue color, so she had obviously gotten some hair dye, and was tied up against her head by yellow ribbons in two tresses. Overall, she had a very frail and timid look about her. In fact, she even seemed to be trembling a bit.

May blinked at her for a moment more, before her face turned to passion. In a moment, she snapped the anchor out and aimed it at her.

"Who are you?!" She demanded. "Are you some sneaky bounty hunter trying to run off with my prize money?! If you are, I'll knock your block off! Nothing can stand between me and…"

The young pirate trailed off, blinking. The moment she had started shouting, the young woman had recoiled more. As she kept going, she began to cringe, drawing more into herself, until she was nearly on the ground. After that, she began to cry.

May blinked again. However, even though she stopped, the young woman was almost whimpering, like a child might as she kept crying. If nothing else it made May feel a bit ashamed. However, more importantly, it soon confirmed this young woman wasn't a bounty hunter or any threat to her. After a moment, she lowered the anchor and put it back.

"Uh…sorry about that."

The woman continued to whine.

May grimaced and scratched her head. "Er…I…didn't mean to scare you. I'm not really going to hit you or anything. This…uh…" She looked to her anchor. "Um…it's just personal defense, you know?"

She kept crying.

The pirate groaned. _Sheesh, I didn't overdo it_ that _much, did I?_ Exhaling a bit, she crouched herself, making her head smaller than the young woman's. That was enough to make her sniffle and look up slightly, at least.

"Look…I'm sorry. I'm really not a bad person, ok?" She said, in a more "child-humoring" tone, realizing this woman wasn't too emotionally mature at this point…even less so than May, if that was possible. "Here." She pushed the anchor aside and let it fall, then held out her hands. "See? No weapon." She smiled. "I'm not going to hurt you, so go ahead and ease up. You just…uh…surprised me, is all."

The woman continued to stare a moment. However, her crying gradually eased. She sniffled a few more times, and then risked leaning up a bit. She studied May the same way a frightened deer might evaluate a potential predator, and then straightened a bit further. Slowly, her arms began to come down and she eased.

May smiled a bit more. "Ok…this is better. What are you doing out here, anyway?"

The woman blinked, and then timidly bowed her head and pointed nearby. The pirate looked, and found a bit of upturned mud and a pouch with rough moonstones coming out of it nearby. She had obviously been gathering them, although May was a bit confused as to why a young adult would be doing something like that.

She looked to her again. "That's…nice… But didn't you know this place was dangerous?"

The woman blinked again, easing a bit more, but then simply shook her head "no".

May raised an eyebrow. "You're kidding me, right? You heard all the stories about the Gear, didn't you?"

The woman paused, but then nodded.

"So why haven't you cleared out? Do you live here or something?"

She shook her head.

The pirate sighed. "Then what are you doing here?"

The woman paused for a long time. Her eyes lowered. She seemed to grow timid again, before she finally spoke quietly.

"…I'm waiting for someone."

The pirate hesitated at finally hearing her voice, but in the end exhaled. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but you can't stay here. The Gear is around here and…" She paused a moment, then groaned. "…I don't think I'd live it down if you got mutilated by it after I just ran into you. So you better tag along with me."

The woman looked up, seeming puzzled and confused by that. "But…he told me I shouldn't run off with strangers…or talk to them…"

May was a bit confused at that answer. Who exactly was 'he'? In the end, however, she merely smiled and winked. "Well, you already broke one of those, so why not the other one? You're safer with me. Doesn't that sound better than sitting around waiting for the Gear or one of those roughnecks I left in the dust coming by? They may take advantage of an innocent person like you."

The woman paused. She seemed to tremble a bit, cringing a little more. "I…want to be safe…" She murmured.

"Then it's settled." May answered, already getting up. "Come on."

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	13. Secondary Will

**"** **Secondary Will"**

* * *

The scanner suddenly looked up from his device, touching a hand to his headset he was using as a "analog antenna". His face went stiff for a moment before he turned to Ky. "Sir, we have a problem."

That was the last thing the captain wanted to hear. Already, he was growing increasingly frustrated at the slow pace the armored IPF transport was using to get through the Schwarzwald. Even with being heavy and magically reinforced, the best all of this could do was ensure that none of the smaller trees and logs slowed them down. Most of the trees were too big just to go through, requiring to go around, and even at their speed the trip was no faster than a four-wheeler might have in an earlier age. Meanwhile, things were a madhouse behind them. Ky wasn't sure if command would have his head for not ensuring the area behind them was secure, but all of this chaos would be for nothing if he didn't stop the Gear. Needless to say, he didn't need more bad news.

"What is it?

"There's a flare up of magical energy ahead. I've never sensed anything like it before. Frankly…it's making me a bit dizzy…"

"It's the Gear, officer." Ky simply responded. "Nothing more. You're not the first scanner who's had their senses overwhelmed by one."

"Sir…I'm afraid it can't be that simple…" The scanner answered, rubbing the bridge of his nose a bit from the pain. "The only way I could have suddenly gotten a signal this strong is if it had an eruption of power, as if it was getting ready to go into battle."

The captain, and the other officers riding along, reacted to hearing that with some anxiety. "…Is it near us or any other IPF unit?"

"Not us, sir. I have its position for certain now. Two more miles."

Ky turned his head to the tactical officer. He shook his head. "North group should reach position before we do, but…they have another good three quarters of a mile until there."

The captain paused only a moment before he clenched his fist. "Someone's already there and engaging it."

"But who? No large teams went by, and it couldn't have much trouble with just one or two bounty hunters, could it?"

"Just get there as fast as you can." Ky responded. "That's an order."

 _There is_ one _bounty hunter that could…_

* * *

It seemed coaxing the woman was harder than it looked. She seemed reluctant to touch May even after she calmed down. It didn't take long for the pirate to conclude she was likely mentally underdeveloped in some way, as childish as she was acting-more like a toddler than a young woman. She seemed to have an instinctive fear of May even after she had the reassurances to put the anchor down. And she kept insisting that "he" would be back and it probably wouldn't do good to go far. However, when she tried to ask who "he" was, the young woman said nothing. In the end, the only thing that got her to move was telling her that people would be coming in here to try and fight the Gear soon and the place would turn into a war zone.

"I…suppose he would leave if people were coming…" The young woman quietly admitted.

And so, May now found herself wandering through the forest again at a much slower pace, due to the young woman behind only walking at a painfully slow rate and seeming to carefully and daintily help herself over roots and rocks. It was nearly infuriating to May after she had gotten such a head start. And her primary motivation was still that money. However, Johnny wouldn't have left someone like her behind to get caught in the crossfire. She supposed she had better bring her to make sure she didn't get herself killed by collateral damage. Besides, with her along, she wouldn't be able to point any other bounty hunters or the like in the "right direction", so it was covering herself in a sense. Still, she did feel a bit uneasy about having a shadow along for the ride.

"So…you got a name?"

"…What?"

"A name. What's your name?"

There was a long pause from the young woman. "Dizzy." She finally said.

May looked a little stunned at that. "Seriously? That's your name?"

"Grandpa was a fan of baseball, he told me." The young woman answered. "He named me after an old player from hundreds of years ago."

"Aha! So _that's_ who this 'he' is."

"No. That's not him." Her voice grew a bit quieter. "…I don't know where grandpa and grandma are." A pause. "They're probably dead…"

May turned her head slightly to that. Her face perturbed. "So, are you saying you don't have any family aside from this guy?"

She could barely see Dizzy, but her head was low and she was quiet. "…He's not my family, but he takes care of me. He's the only one who does."

The pirate hesitated. On hearing that, her face twisted a bit. After a few more moments, she sighed and looked away. "I…kind of know the feeling."

She didn't see it, but Dizzy's head looked up. "You do? But…how…how can you?" She paused. "Do…do other people…hate you?"

May let out a bitter chuckle. "But of course. Either that or they don't care…or they want to see what they get out of me. Anyway, the point is I know what it's like to not have a family…at least, to 'start out' without one. Luckily I got found by someone who takes care of me and looks out for me." She smiled a bit. "Sounds like whoever this guy is, he's a bit like Johnny."

"You…you mean…" Dizzy began to answer. "There…there are others out there like him? People…who are nice like that?"

"Well, not many…and certainly not like Johnny." May answered, already getting a dreamy look in her eyes. "After all, he's one of a kind…" After letting out a small sigh, she shook her head. "But yeah, there's some."

There was another pause from the young woman. "Do…people try to hurt you…or kill you?"

May hesitated. _That's a bit of an odd question…but it's also spot on._ "Well…in all honesty, yeah. But that's part of my job. I'm a pirate."

"What's a pirate?" Dizzy asked, perfectly curious.

"Heh…the best thing in the world." May answered with a grin as she hefted her anchor over her shoulder a bit. "Someone who lives without any rules or responsibilities…except the ones you make. The definition of freedom. Able to do what you want, when you want. Go anywhere…do anything. It's the life."

"Go…anywhere?" Dizzy curiously answered. "But…but you said people want to hurt you…and kill you… How can you go anywhere?"

"Easy." May chuckled. "Give 'em a fat lip if they get fresh."

"Get…fresh…?"

"Ugh…try anything. You know, try to attack you or something."

The young woman seemed to grow nervous at that. "You…you mean…kill?"

"What?" May answered, turning slightly behind her. "Well…of course not. Not if you can avoid it. Just make sure they don't come after you."

"But…what if they keep coming?" Dizzy asked. "What if they won't leave you alone no matter where you go?"

The pirate snickered. "Ah, there's tons of ways to get around that problem, especially when you have a nice big airship. Besides…I've got my crew behind me and Johnny as my captain, and everyone backs everyone else up. All for one and one for all. No reason to be scared when you've got that on your side."

Dizzy only seemed more puzzled. "You're…not scared…even when people want to hurt you…"

"Nope."

"Because…you have a 'crew' and a 'captain'?"

"You bet!"

"And…they don't want to hurt you?"

"Of course not!" May answered. "Why would they?"

Dizzy opened her mouth to answer, paused for a long time, and then shut it again. Her head bowed and she wrung her arms together again. "…No reason, I suppose." She paused. "…Why did you come here?"

May smiled ear-to-ear. "Fortune and glory, of course. I'm going to beat up that Gear and then collect that reward, and give my Johnny the biggest birthday ever!"

There was the longest pause yet from behind her.

"A reward…for killing the Gear?"

"Sheesh, you really _don't_ watch the news, do you? Whoever kills that Gear gets a small fortune in world dollars. Every bounty hunter on the planet wants a piece of it…but _I'm_ the one who's going to get it."

"A fortune…" The young woman echoed. "You mean…money?"

The pirate nearly wanted to facepalm. "Yeah, money. Moola. Bread. Cash."

Another pause, and the voice grew quieter still. "You'd…kill the Gear…just for money?"

May slowed down a bit, a little confused. "Well…I probably wouldn't even try if I wasn't going to get money for it, I admit. But yeah, that's the general idea. If not me, the IPF or someone else would have the Gear killed."

"But…why? What did the Gear do to you? To anyone?"

"Heh, you're _really_ backwards. Gears are big ugly monsters. All they do is try to rip up and kill humans. I know from experience. One held me hostage for a couple days and was going to kill me to try and call up an even _bigger_ Gear if his little plan didn't work…or something… We're better off without 'em, but I don't usually bother with trying to kill them myself. This time, however, money…and love…is on the line. So that Gear is all mine no matter how tough it is!"

The young woman didn't answer for a short while, but when she did her voice had changed slightly.

"You…are running around with your big weapon…and trying to kill the Gear."

May blinked, not sure what she was getting at. "Um…yeah."

"Just like everyone else."

The pirate hesitated, and then nodded. "Yeah, pretty much."

"…How is that Gear different from you?"

May paused again, and then turned around, giving Dizzy a bewildered look. "…What?"

However, the young woman was looking up, and staring plainly at her.

"You told me people want to hurt you and kill you and you must stay away from them or fight them to survive. Do you consider people 'just' in wanting to attack you?"

May hesitated on hearing that. "Uh…"

"Because if you don't…if you feel you have the right to 'freedom'…why do you think the Gear doesn't deserve the same right?"

The pirate paused. To be honest, she hadn't thought of that before. However, in the end she gave a shrug. "Well, that's easy enough. I'm a human. The Gear is just a weapon…like a big, walking, talking gun. I guess I'd be lying if I said I don't hurt anyone myself, but when I said I have freedom I didn't mean I go around punching out old ladies and snatching their purses. I do a lot of good as a pirate under Johnny. But what do Gears do except hurt people? The Gear already killed a lot of people around here. If it came across you, it'd kill you without a second thought, you know."

Dizzy stared back momentarily. After a few seconds, she bowed her head, wrung her arms together again, and then looked to the side as she walked. She said no more.

May quirked an eyebrow. She walked along for a while. "…I don't believe it. You really pity that Gear, don't you?"

The young woman said nothing.

The pirate sighed as she looked forward again. "Well, maybe if you saw firsthand some of the stuff they did, you wouldn't feel that way. Just make sure to stay clear of it if it comes around. I don't think it'd be as nice to you as I'm being."

The woman continued to walk in silence.

May turned her head back to her after a moment. She saw she was still looking to the ground-almost moping, or even looking depressed. The pirate was more confused than ever. Just where did this young woman come from? She was that bent out of shape about this? Surely she knew about the Gears. Everyone did, no matter where you were from. She definitely didn't ask "what a Gear was" like she did with everything else. Was she just that innocent? At any rate, something about her sourpuss was "bumming May out", especially since she was the one who did it, albeit inadvertently.

So, after a moment, the pirate broke out into a smile, and suddenly hopped around to fully face the young woman. Immediately, she froze in her tracks and recoiled, wrapping her arms around herself and snapping up, looking like she expected to be struck. However, after a moment, she relaxed when she only saw May smiling at her.

"Hey, chin up! No reason to look so sad. I mean…you got a new friend today, didn't you?"

Dizzy paused, blinking a few times. "I…I did?"

"Well duh." May answered, jabbing a thumb at herself. "Think I'm escorting you through here just because I've got nothing better to do? Hang on."

She used her free hand to reach into her coat, and came out a moment later with a small plastic-wrapped pouch, which she tossed to Dizzy. Again, the young woman recoiled a bit, seeming to expect a weapon, but a moment later she instinctively extended her hands and caught it. She blinked.

"Heh, don't tell April I had that, but it's a bit of jellybeans from one of our 'smaller' raids. I kept it for a light snack. You can have it. You like candy, don't you?"

Dizzy blinked. "Can…candy?" She tried out the word.

"Oh boy…you need a lot of work…" May groaned as she made motions with her hands. "Here…grab it here, tear it open, shake one out, and then chew it and eat it."

The young woman looked to the bag. After a moment, focusing a bit hard, she started to do as she was told. It took her a try or two, but finally she opened it up. She turned it to her hand and shook a bean out, and then put it in her mouth a bit slowly. She held uncertainly for a short while, but then began to chew it. After a rather long time, her face began to light up. By the time she swallowed it, she looked very surprised.

"That was…very sweet…and tasty."

"Heh, well…you lucked out on the first bean." May answered with a shrug. "Other ones might not be as good. They're all different flavors with different colors, you see."

"…Really?" Dizzy asked. She looked to the pouch and shook out another one, more readily eating it this time. She chewed it up, and lit up a bit more; actually showing a smile. "That was even better than that last!" She proclaimed. Quickly, she shook out more beans, this time doing two of them, and ate them as well. While still chewing, she began to shake out four of them.

"Hey, slow down! You want to savor them, don't you?" May chuckled. "Anyway, glad you like them. Just eat and walk. We still need to get out of here."

She turned and kept going. Dizzy, on her part, finished eating her current one and then looked up to May. After a moment, she weakly smiled at her too.

"Thank you. I…I really didn't think there was anyone who would ever give me anything other than my grandparents…"

"Oh, don't worry about it. And my name is May, by the way."

"Ok, May."

* * *

Sol had stopped running at this point. After all, there was no need to rush forward anymore. He knew he was close. He could practically smell it.

And, much as he had expected, it smelled familiar.

He knew that he wouldn't be the one to make the first move, especially since he was almost certain his assumption about who was waiting for him was accurate. There was a good chance he wouldn't see it coming. However, because he _knew_ he wouldn't see it coming, that gave him a measure of control over the situation. He knew enough at least to know that he wouldn't strike here…not while he was walking through the large trees where they grew tall and close. A much larger clearing was just ahead, however. He could already see it emerging through the tree "screen" as he got closer. Once he got there, he knew the strike would take place. This individual wouldn't risk getting in a fight in an enclosed area even if he intended to drop Sol with his first blow.

He heard the fighting still far in the distance. Perhaps it was slowly getting closer, but for now it was definitely not near enough to be a concern. He could only hope that Chipp could keep it that way. As cold and indifferent as he seemed, in truth he did indeed find a good use for that ninja. Something that would help him immensely in this situation. One Gear alone was bad enough but trying to take on two would be nigh impossible, especially considering the traces he had sensed earlier.

These were definitely Gears of the highest class…perhaps even higher.

As the clearing neared, the forest was still. This deep into it, the leaves hadn't even begun to fall yet, although that would change in a day or so. It seemed unusually still, which only made sense. This deep in the woods, no passing gale or breeze could upset the trees. Although he moved slowly, Sol tried his best to look as casual as possible. He didn't need to make it too obvious that he was "sneaking". Unlike the Gear who was the source of all of this controversy, _this_ Gear was the one who had absolutely no qualms about killing, and that would include the bounty hunter.

At last, he came upon the final row of trees before the clearing. Not slowing down, but tensing up more from a mental standpoint, he kept walking forward and passed inside. It would happen soon, and he couldn't just shrug off this one. Gears were something else all together. With that in mind, he cleared his thoughts and waited for the first sensation he could detect, knowing he'd only have a brief moment to react…

 _Caw…_

In a snap, Sol turned his head skyward. In spite of the clearing having been silent and void of life before now, he saw that there was one animal present, possibly having been there the whole time and only now saying something: a crow in the treetops. The black bird looked down to the bounty hunter and gave a rather loud squawk that echoed through the entire understory.

A moment later, he realized the reason.

 _Clever_.

Quickly, the bounty hunter pivoted around as fast as he could and flashed out with the Fireseal, having heard a noise from behind him almost a split second after hearing the crow caw. What he saw was enough to make even his eyebrows raise in surprise. Rather than an opponent, what looked like what could best be described as an energy blob shadow with teeth shot along the surface of the forest floor and right for him. It scarcely went higher than his knees, but considering its incisors he wasn't hoping to have it latch onto him. Not holding back, his sword immediately erupted in flame as he swung it down, cleaving right through the thing as soon as it was in range. The sword easily sliced it in half, leaving burning fragments in its wake which immediately faded into nothingness as the spell was broken. However, Sol knew it wasn't that easy…especially since the moment he had pivoted around he sensed a buildup of power behind him.

 _Three different strikes? You were planning on me coming…_

He didn't stop after slicing through the shadow blob, but immediately spun around again and brought his blade up. A moment later, it connected with a curved blade that had been aimed at his spine, red as blood. The two locked with a resounding clash that echoed deep through the clearing and far beyond. Once there, Sol, feeling the raw power behind it, quickly brought up his other hand and grasped the blade tight to brace himself.

After all, the opponent he saw before him was using both hands.

His eyes looked over a man with white skin, long black hair, and a black robe concealing most of his body. His blood-red eyes burned with anger and hate as he tried to overpower Sol with the scythe in his grasp, although his face stayed straight enough. Nevertheless, he wasn't nearly as calm as he was last time, Sol could tell. At any rate, the crow soon left its perch and fluttered around behind the humanoid. It revealed itself to be a magical creature of a sort as it flapped in the air, managing to hover in place, more or less.

The bounty hunter kept his gaze on his opponent even as they both quivered slightly under each other's weapons.

"I'll be honest, 'Ozzie'. I'm surprised that Justice was so sloppy that you're still alive. But I suppose as you were never a 'true' Gear that even she couldn't know your potential."

The Gear's gaze narrowed. "I swore off that title a long time ago, Sol. I'd prefer you use my true name: Testament."

"Fair enough."

With that, both pushed off of each other, shooting twenty feet apart as a result in a split second, with Testament seeming to "glide" back while Sol simply leapt backward. Once away, the Gear immediately swiped his scythe down and, as a result, a wave of energy erupted off of the end and formed another one of those "toothed blobs", which shot off like a ravenous pig right for the bounty hunter. Sol didn't waste time with it. Instead, he vaulted forward and leapt in a lunge, sailing over it and headed right for the Gear. Unfortunately, Testament seemed to be expecting it this time. He quickly darted forward behind his attack and sliced upward, meaning to catch Sol in advance and beat him to the slash. However, the bounty hunter was faster than he gave him credit for. In an instant, he flashed out with the Fireseal and connected with the scythe, using the resulting clash as an impact to launch him the rest of the way over Testament and touch down behind him. For a brief moment, both opponents stood with backs to one another.

Then, Sol quickly snapped to full height, spun around, and slashed upward with his sword. Powerful as he was, Testament barely turned in time to swing his scythe down to counter, making the two weapons collide again. However, even this impact proved to be nearly too much for him, jarring his weapon upward. A moment later, Sol pressed the assault, launching a series of lightning-fast slashes against the Gear. Due to having been pushed off balance, Testament had to move fast, twirling his scythe around as quickly as he could and swinging the blade in one deflection move after another while he retreated, trying to keep Sol's hits from knocking him more off guard than he already was. After colliding five more times, all the while being pushed back, at last he choked up on his scythe and yanked it down, hooking the blade around the Fireseal in between slices. Sol quickly tightened his own muscles and held firm, causing the two to lock with one another once more. Again, both sides struggled with neither gaining an inch.

"I give you credit for having some new tricks, at least. Or, at minimum, doing things different from last time. So…you're the one who killed those people from Hildebrant."

"If you're referring to those pigs I slaughtered, correct. I haven't felt such satisfaction from slicing humans to pieces in some time. My only regret is they died too quickly to make them suffer a tenth as much as she did."

Sol paused a moment, and then raised an eyebrow again. "…She? The other Gear is a female, I take it?"

Testament's pupils contracted; seeming to realize that he had just volunteered more information that Sol didn't already know. As a result, his own muscles tightened, and suddenly he ripped the scythe downward, yanking the Fireseal down in the process. A moment later, before Sol could react, the scythe was up again and the shaft drove out and smashed him in the face above the nose. Although a quick move, Sol could feel the power nearly break it, and noticed that Testament stayed clear of his headband with the blow. Apparently he had not only survived the last battle, but had enough consciousness to actually see the mistake Justice made. It made him backpedal, although not stagger. In spite of the pain, he kept his footing.

A good thing too, for Testament immediately rushed forward, bringing his scythe back up and over his head to ready a hooking slash; no doubt to yank his sword away even if he managed to block it. However, as he came in and brought the weapon down, Sol countering by swinging his blade out and smacking it against the scythe with perfect timing, enough to deflect it out of the way. Quickly, he moved in to stab in a counter attack, forcing the Gear to quickly swing his weapon around in a circle, going with the momentum from the deflect, and then knock the sword upward. However, on collision, Sol went with the same power striking his blade, brought the Fireseal around, ignited it, and then attempted an underhand slice. Seeming to realize he couldn't block it this time without risking hitting the shaft and breaking his weapon, Testament recoiled again, once more seeming to glide along the ground. The result left an opening, and Sol would have seized it a moment later, only to have the Gear suddenly bring his weapon up and rapidly twist it around in a circle. Only he wasn't just idly swinging it this time. He was making gyrations as he did so, and, a bit to Sol's surprise, he was drawing what looked like an arcane symbol through the air that had the look of a summoning sigil.

 _Did he have this much magical power last time?_ He thought to himself. _Or had he just spent all of it trying to summon Justice?_

Regardless of the answer, the sigil soon broke, sending what looked like a phatasmic, flaming skull bursting forth and shooting for Sol as a projectile. Quickly, he brought the Fireseal around as it sailed for him and swung down upon it to cut it in two before it could reach him; only to feel a painful jarring explosion go through his body with such force that not only did his teeth grit, but he was launched backward from the impact. The skull had erupted the moment he made contact into a ball of otherworldly fire. Small…but far more power than a conventional explosive. This time, Sol did actually stagger as he was blown back a few more feet, barely able to stay upright.

An instant later, the cloud of spectral flames broke as Testament came shooting out of it, scythe reared back to attack, and sailing straight for the bounty hunter. Soon he was unleashing one powerful, overbearing slice after another in smooth, fluid, "figure eight" movements to try and strike down Sol. Caught off guard by the blast, Sol had little choice but to back up and rapidly deflect them as fast as he could. Not easy, considering the fact that they were just as brutal as back in England… It wasn't long before he felt his muscles begin to burn while his brow broke out in sweat. However, he did notice, in spite of this, there was one difference.

Sweat was coming off of Testament's brow as well.

As the Gear brought his scythe around to try and come up in a slice from beneath, abruptly Sol gave a grunt, increased his own speed and power, and beat him to it by swinging his sword around and connecting with it, locking the Fireseal in the connection point of the scythe to the shaft. The two held there, and quickly the bounty hunter put on more pressure. Testament was at first stunned that Sol had stopped him, but then visibly grit his own teeth as he realized he was at a bad grip and Sol was pushing against it. The two locked for a few moments more, with the Gear being the one to show more pain for the effort, before finally he gave a sound of his own and slid backward, separating his weapon from Sol's and parting once again. Immediately, both raised their respective blades and stood off against one another. However, neither renewed the assault just yet.

"Let's try a different question." Sol stated after a moment. _"Why_ did you kill them?"

"And here I thought you were supposed to be wiser than the typical human…" Testament answered between slight pants. "With Justice gone, I have no other purpose to life other than ensure the survival of our kind."

"Justice saw you as nothing more than a blemish on her species."

Testament snorted. "And the alternative would be…? Going back to the very humans who wanted me as a trained dog and then tried to put me down as soon as I outlived my usefulness? I may never see a second Crusade, Sol, but I'll still ensure the continuation of my own species. I'll not allow her to be slaughtered for the 'crime' of being alive…certainly not by a gang of disgusting rabble who would run their own mothers through for a world dollar."

"And you really think you alone can protect her from the entire planet?"

"Considering the fact that it's the two of us versus the human race, I don't have much choice in the matter. But before you mock me any further by sounding like you actually care, perhaps I should remind you why I'm justified in thinking that I can since you forgot England so soon."

Bringing his scythe over his head and swinging it so quickly that it seemed to form an energy disc (and it might very well have considering the nature of the blade) Testament lunged at Sol again, far faster than he had just retreated. The bounty hunter answered by locking his feet into place and bringing up his sword to try and match it, but he soon found that was a bad idea when Testament swung the scythe around and smacked the sword out of the way with a rather painful and jarring impact. Before he could recover again, the Gear brought the still-twirling scythe around and smashed him in the chin. He felt a hot wave of pain as the blade sliced right through it, cutting a bloody gash that left a trail in the air, but the raw impact made his jawbone shudder as he was knocked clean off of his feet and sent flying backward. The blow was too strong this time. He was still reeling as he fell down on his back.

Quickly, the Gear advanced, stopping his twirling and bringing his scythe back up as he advanced again, no doubt planning for a killing stroke. Yet as he got in range and brought it down, Sol answered by flipping up and quickly rolling backward, narrowly missing the scythe cutting his shirt as he went back and onto his feet. Yet before he could rise again, Testament was already on him, continuing to glide after him and slashing out at his position. Immediately, Sol went into another roll to evade this one, but the Gear didn't stop. He quickly went after him again and slashed one more time. No doubt, he planned to keep him doing this until he ran into a rock or tree root and then he'd hit him…

Yet the bounty hunter wasn't about to let him have that chance. As he rolled back again, before Testament could slice one more time, he suddenly launched himself off of the ground and straight at him, already bringing the Fireseal around to attack. A bit of a panic move, but it had the desired intent as it forced Testament to dig in himself and cross his scythe in front of him. Soon, the two collided and clashed again, leaving both pushing against one another once again. Both glared intently at each other's eyes.

However, Sol noticed that while he was definitely sweating and actually breathing a little himself, Testament looked even sweatier and was panting as well.

"I haven't forgotten England, actually. Which means I haven't forgotten about this."

With that, in a rapid move so quick that Testament didn't have the chance to push his scythe in, Sol removed one of his hands and gave just a slight tap, not even a real blow by human standards, to the region on Testament's body where Justice had struck him.

The effect was instantaneous. He saw Testament's pupils turn into pinpricks as his teeth clenched and his sweat increased. In moments, it didn't matter if Sol was holding onto the Fireseal with both hands or not, as the force against him quickly ebbed. After a moment, the scythe grew so loose that the bounty hunter was able to calmly take two steps backward. Although slaying Testament would have been easy at that point, he didn't press it. He merely stood back, and watched as the Gear struggled to stay standing…and failed. A moment later, his scythe shifted to one hand as he dropped to one knee, shedding bullets of sweat, gritting his teeth, and breathing hard.

"You may be a Gear, Testament. But you're still mortal. That attack would have killed most Gears. Even nine weeks wasn't enough for you to fully heal, especially since you've likely been using your power ever since to escape England and track the other Gear. You started off just as strong as last time, but I can feel in your hits the more you push yourself the weaker you're becoming."

The bounty hunter thought he heard one noise as Testament forced his leg underneath him and began to push up again. It sounded like "damn you".

"I don't want to hurt the Gear. As hard as you may find that to believe, I'm not here for the bounty."

"And you honestly expect me to believe that." Testament hissed between grit teeth as he got up. "The most infamous killer of our kind claims he's had a change of heart… The executor of Justice professes a newfound love for Gears… Besides…"

He grasped his scythe with his other hand and looked up with a glare at him. For a moment, his frown nearly became a slight smile.

"What makes you so sure you _can_ hurt the Gear?"

Sol said nothing in response, although he did register the meaning of those words as he raised his weapon.

"Do not mistake the fact that the Gear dislikes violence for the fact that she's not capable of destroying both you and every last one of her would-be killers." Testament continued. "Her power is on par with Justice…perhaps even greater."

Now, the bounty hunter, in spite of his composure, did show a visible wave of unease. To be honest, he instinctively thought that Testament was lying and nearly accused him of that. However, he knew enough by now to realize that this man didn't do that sort of thing.

It was enough to make him feel a rare sensation…fear.

At any rate, the Gear said no more. He sprang on Sol again, forcing him to quickly guard himself.

* * *

The man in black slowly advanced, the smirk on his face looking like he was almost daring Chipp to do something. The ninja had to admit-he was a bit "dry" at the moment. He had managed to get in a few more unpredictable hits, but, not being used to having to improvise, they lacked much in the way of stopping power, especially considering how solid his opponent seemed to be. At any rate, his own anger was still stoked. He wasn't going to just roll over for this guy or run away after he had been so humiliated back in England.

Abruptly, he took off for him again, brandishing his blade in front of him. He saw the man in black smile a bit, clearly meaning to deflect it from a predictable standpoint again. And sure enough, when Chipp reached him, he instantly shot out with his sword to intercept Chipp's blade with a slash of his own. But while the two attacks connected, that still allowed Chipp to launch himself at the last moment, so that rather than the slash directly deflecting him, it went beneath him as he sailed upward, toward the man in black's head. The eyes behind the shades only had a moment to widen before they realized the ninja had used his own height against him, before a knee lashed out and nailed him in the nose.

The larger man staggered back, blood now trickling from his nostrils…especially since he seemed to have used whatever time he had to adjust to ensure Chipp didn't break his sunglasses. The ninja didn't let up, but quickly ricocheted back to the ground before doing more of a straight lunge, again with his blade out in front of him. In spite of staggering, the man in black managed to cross his bokken back in front of him to take the first blow. Quickly swinging his arm to one side to push the weapon out of the way, the ninja followed up with a side kick deep into what he hoped was the kidney region. And unlike his earlier blows, this one _had_ been focused. He saw the man in black visibly wince and curl around the hit.

Not stopping, Chipp quickly sprung back slightly and forced in another move, this one a sliding kick. The ground was even enough for it, and he dashed forward and struck out for the man-in-black's right ankle, hitting hard and kicking it out and from under him. Immediately, he fell to one knee. The ninja nearly grinned, thinking he finally had this in the bag, and quickly rose up with his blade extended to bring in a finishing slice…

But before he could get in range, the bokken shot out again-right into the same place it had struck twice already. Chipp's smile had just enough time to fade in anticipation of pain before it not only struck him, but hit him deep as his charge shoved his body onto the weapon. To make matters worse, the man in black instantly arched back with it and flipped the stunned Chipp right off of his feet, over his head, and threw him down to the ground on the other side. Too stunned from being driven into fresh pain, the ninja couldn't break or brace himself before he landed hard.

Luckily, he was at least resilient enough to get up fast, but that was further hampered by his already painful injury further agitated, as well as being stunned from the flip. As fast as he thought he was rising, the man in black, seeming to shrug off his own pain, got up just as quickly. As Chipp managed to get his feet underneath him and tried to raise his blade to slash again, the larger man beat him to the punch and lashed out with his bokken to "rap" him at the shoulder neck joint, striking one of his own nerves in the process. Unfortunately, it was the one with his sword arm, and immediately it lowered again. If that wasn't enough, the larger man managed to not only rise before him but advance before him at the same time, and, while Chipp was still stunned from the move, lashed out with his fist. It wasn't the strike of a casual brawler but someone with some martial arts skill. As a result, the ninja's head snapped back as his own nostrils erupted in fresh blood, causing him to recoil from the blow.

The man in black didn't press his advantage, actually wincing a bit from his side as he got into position again. Chipp, dizzy and sore as he was, finding it painful to breathe now, managed to guard himself and get in his own ready stance. Once there, the man in black managed a smile.

"So you got power…and you've got moves…but there's still one thing I'm afraid you can't 'learn on the fly', and that's how to take a beating. Especially if you're a ninja used to dropping guys in the first couple moves." He indicated down to his side. "You got me good there, I'll admit that…but you're going to have to do a lot better before I'm down for the count."

Chipp grit his teeth. "So that means you're going to have to keep protecting that side for the rest of the fight…"

The man in black paused, then snickered. "Well, naturally. So it seems it comes down to whether you can keep exploiting that weakness before you run out of stamina and I drop you. After that reaction, I can tell you can't take many more hits from me, sword or no sword."

"I'm not about to lose to a criminal." Chipp sneered.

"And I'm not about to lose to a scrawny punk that calls me 'old'."

Both began to look each other over, trying to see what would be the next best move to make. Chipp realized he had to inflict some major pain pretty soon. He only had one "ace" leapt up his sleeve, and he planned to save it for emergencies, but he may have not had a choice. As for the man in black, Chipp didn't know it but he was hurting quite a bit from the blow to his kidneys. It felt like it nearly knocked out a rib. Yet to show weakness at a time like this was inviting death. Besides, his own pride wouldn't let him throw in the towel just yet.

But before either could agree on a move to make, they heard a sound coming in through the trees. Engine noise and heavy. However, it was mixed in with other smaller engine noises from what had to be more ATV-sized craft. Both made the mistake of losing eye contact and looking to the source. They saw nothing at first. However, the day was getting darker, meaning the forest was getting darker even faster. As a result, any vehicles going through the woods would have their lights on, and these were apparently no exceptions. Distant beams began to pierce through the glade, telegraphing their position and size over the forest floor.

After a moment, the ninja heard the man in black sigh. "You would think after the tenth or so time, I would learn to stay away from these 'manhood'-measuring contests…but _nooooo…_ " With that, he looked back to Chipp, who had turned to him by now. "Alright. Looks like I'll have to call it. See ya'."

He turned toward the woods, clearly meaning to run into them again.

"Hey!" Chipp shouted. "We aren't done here!"

"Um…yes we are, kid." The man in black answered, pausing to look back at him. "Because those aren't bounty hunter vehicles coming up on us now. I've been in this biz long enough to know when I'm hearing the 'hoofbeats' of the IPF, and I don't fancy settling our little ego trip in a prison cell. Especially since I busted out of one less than six months ago. And if you know what's good for you, you'll beat feet too unless you think you're a good enough ninja to elude a whole regiment of them, including scanners, _and_ beat me up at the same time."

Chipp hesitated. He hadn't thought of that. True, he had managed to slip away from the IPF once before, but that had been in somewhat more "ideal" conditions where he only had to deal with ten at the most and over a larger area. But trying to take down his opponent as well as this…

It made him twice as frustrated as before, but he didn't pursue.

"Smart move." He gave a tip of his hat to him, before turning to go. Yet before taking off, he smiled a bit more.

"…Consider yourself lucky."

With a snicker, he took off while Chipp turned red as a beat.

"You smug son-of-a-"

 _"_ _This is the International Police Force."_ A loudspeaker cut off from the direction of the approaching vehicles. _"You are in an official police operation zone. Throw down your weapon and stand down immediately."_

The ninja scowled before he quickly turned and ran off as well. He didn't even have time to shout a counter-insult to his opponent who, in spite of not being as speedy as a ninja, was already rapidly vanishing into the woods. He simply went off in the direction that he hoped Sol had gone.

 _Bounty hunters are one thing but he better not expect me to fight off the whole damn IPF. Besides, I've gotten knocked around by that guy long enough. I didn't come here to serve as a 'distraction'…I came here to find that Gear. I wonder if he ran into it…_

* * *

By now, Ky was putting his hand on the Thunderseal hilt. He could almost feel the electrical energy respond to him. They were getting very close. Even without the aid of the scanner, he could sense powerful electrical impulses being cast off. Too strong for just an individual, no matter how powerful, to just stand around doing nothing. That was…unless the individual was someone like Justice. Yet he could tell the nature. There was something stronger going on here-a fight.

He also detected the smaller impulses just a moment ago. Two individuals just fled for it. Both were powerful, enough to where someone like him would probably need to step in to actually stop them. However, they weren't his concern. What was on up ahead was.

"Sir…"

Again, it was the scanner talking. Ky looked to him. "What is it, officer?"

"I…I know you're probably sick of getting 'surprises'…" His voice was nervous, and he was nearly muttering. "But…we've got another one."

"What is it?"

"I can separate all the signatures in the area now. There's six in all. The two nearest to us that are running away are easily Class Cs, possibly Bs. They're strong, but not Gear-level. But just a little further ahead, I'm picking up two more. One is…well…to be honest, I'd almost accuse it of being _you_. I've never run into a Class B at that high of a level before…"

Ky felt his grip on his hilt tighten. There was only one individual he knew of that strong.

 _He_ is _here…_

"But this one is fighting a Class A. No mistake about it. It's a Gear. I'd stake my reputation on it."

"Then make sure the driver is going in that direction, officer. That's our target."

"Um…sir…" The officer uneasily continued. "It's…not that simple. You see, there are two more individuals nearing. One is Class D… _possibly_ Class C. But the other…it's…" The officer trailed off.

"What, officer?"

"It's…it's off the charts, sir." The scanner answered as he rubbed his temple. "The individual…it's…it's honestly hurting me just sensing the power it has. I'd call it Class A but…I don't think it falls into that class. It's too high. It has to be an order of magnitude higher than any Class A reading I've ever picked up on. I'd almost want to create a new class for it…"

Ky's eyes narrowed. "…That's impossible, officer. Get your head together. The only individual who could have had that level of power on record would have been Justice, and she's dead and her body in a vault even she couldn't escape."

"I'm just telling you what I'm sensing sir… The only other thing I can add is…the individual isn't even in 'battle mode'. This is likely just the baseline signature."

The former member of the Sacred Order felt himself stiffen. "Officer, are you saying that not only are we dealing with _two_ Gears, but one of them actually surpasses Justice?"

"I'm only telling you what I'm picking up, sir."

Ky felt a rare bead of sweat begin to form on his temple. For a moment, he wanted to say that was impossible and tell the scanner to focus, but he wouldn't have ridden along with this particular scanner if he didn't have faith in his ability. Besides, he could feel the electrical impulses picking up in the air himself. And it was beginning to feel all-too-much like back in that arena in England. He knew there was no lie in what was being said.

 _Good lord…not only two Gears, but could one of them honestly be greater than Justice?_

He realized that even if the entire IPF was here at that moment, that might not be enough… The best he could do was likely handle the smaller Gear. He knew after England that he was too "out-of-practice" to possibly stand against the stronger one alone. Of course, if Sol really _was_ here… In spite of their last exchange, the thought of having to fight alongside him yet _again_ nearly boiled the captain's blood. However, he realized he'd have to grin and bear it. The last thing they needed was a Gear even stronger than Justice running around. Especially considering the fact that it _was_ running around. What if it was another Command Gear like her…?

"Sir!"

Ky snapped his head up. It wasn't the scanner who spoke this time. It was the communications officer. He looked to him with a tense expression. "We've got an emergency broadcast coming in from the north group!"

The captain nearly scowled. _Now what?_ "Put it on speakers now."

The officer turned and typed a few buttons. Moments later, it came through. Everyone in the transport looked up with rather nervous looks to what they heard. It sounded like a mixture of fire, gunshots, explosions, and, most of all, the sounds of flesh being sliced and one cry after another. The younger officers paled as they realized they were listening to a bloodbath. However, even the senior officers were rather perturbed. They hadn't heard anything like this since the Gears ran rampant. Ky himself was one of them.

Over the sounds of death and agony, one voice managed to call.

 _"_ _Emergency! Emergency! Need backup! She's taking us ap-"_

His voice was cut off with another gurgle that sounded like blood flowing into the lung. It was enough even to shake Ky up a bit. The sounds of death continued for a bit longer, before the captain turned to the communications office. "…Turn it off."

The officer was frozen in shock from what he heard, but then quickly leaned over and did so. The moment he did, Ky snapped to the scanner. "What is that? A _third_ Gear?"

The Scanner recoiled a bit at being put on the spot, especially with how Ky was almost demanding an answer from him. However, he quickly shook his head. "N…no, sir."

"What do you mean 'no sir'? You just heard it yourself. There are thirty good, highly-trained IPF personnel over there. Nothing short of a Gear could be doing this to them."

The man swallowed. "Captain…I don't know what to tell you. I'm not picking up anything over in that direction larger than one of the other IPF members. The most it could be is a borderline Class B."

Ky paused. He looked ahead toward the front window. They weren't far now. Pretty soon, they'd be on the area where there _were_ Gears, and where Sol was as well. That was the main priority now; stopping the Gear or "Gears", perhaps, in this case. However, he also realized, as an IPF member, he had a responsibility to his own units. And right now, it sounded as if the north group was getting totally massacred. If it was really happening half as brutally and quickly as it sounded, then they were probably already dead… And anything of that level of power was something that only he could deal with.

It honestly made him more than a little angry. He had struggled so hard to get here, to work out this plan, and in a few short hours everything had totally collapsed. If they lost the Gear now, there was no telling when they'd find it again. And next time it might be in a public place. They were too close to the outskirts of the Schwarzwald. Yet if any of those officers died that could possibly be saved…

Finally, he made a call.

"…We're aborting the strike." He stated in a half-mutter.

A few officers looked to him, but he merely bowed his head and exhaled. "Get us to the broadcast location of the north group as fast as possible. Let's all pray to God that we can save at least some of them…"

* * *

Sol had noticed the advantage had gone in his corner by now. As he advanced and gave a series of overhead strikes upon Testament, as crude and "brutish" as they looked, there was a method to the madness. He wasn't worrying about technical hits this time. He was trying to push the Gear to his limit. And it largely seemed to be working. While the Gear was somehow keeping up with him for now, each deflection hit he performed made him break out into more sweat and pant a bit more. He had to be tearing up his own injuries just to keep this pace.

Of course, he soon learned the old maxim "a cornered wolf is at its most deadly" as Testament abruptly let the impact from one of the overhead strikes knock his scythe down and around, before he swept it up in a vertical, diagonal slash right for Sol's torso. The move was so fast that the bounty hunter had to quickly step back, but the result was still a rapid slice upward and through the edge of the lapel on his vest, cutting off about an inch of it. Quickly, Testament "glided" forward again, swinging his scythe up and over his head before performing another sweeping slash at Sol that he was forced to use two hands worth of power to bat aside, yet still had to retreat. Before the Gear could renew another assault, he quickly cut him off by thrusting forward for his chest, igniting his blade in a sheath of fire again.

Testament's eyes widened a moment, before his entire body suddenly turned red as blood, and then seemed to become the same nature as, like a deluge of liquid, he merely collapsed to the ground and splashed out, letting Sol's blade hit nothing. The bounty hunter tightened his grip and jaw, realizing what this meant, and quickly dove forward in a roll, just narrowly missing a scythe from behind as the same "deluge of blood" abruptly reformed behind him, shot into the air, and condensed to form Testament with his weapon already slashing out. Even so, the Gear immediately took off for Sol after doing so, preparing his weapon for another slice.

Sol, however, wasn't done. The moment he came out of the roll, he performed a "coffee grinder" to swing himself back toward the Gear, and then launched himself up, using both his legs and upper arm strength, just as the Gear came forward and tried to bring down a slash upon him. The two weapons connected, and in spite of Testament's power, he knocked the scythe up and aside; giving him an opening. Quickly, Sol darted forward and slashed outward, his blade igniting again, forcing Testament to recoil. In spite of doing so, he saw the Gear's face tighten in pain for a moment as he pulled away.

The bounty hunter paused again here. It was mostly due to exhaustion. He was breathing hard now, and his own body had quite a bit of sweat on it. Testament may have been weaker than last time in the physical department, but he was definitely not making this easy on Sol. He was a high-level Gear. He couldn't afford to ease up for a moment. And in his current state, Sol found himself growing a bit tired. Although he was pretty sure he could outlast him at this point, he wasn't sure if he'd have anything left for the other Gear afterward.

As for Testament, he looked down to his chest and registered some surprise. The flames of the Fireseal had managed to burn the wound closed, but he still had a painful slash across his upper chest. He looked up to Sol in disbelief.

"I didn't get as far as I did in the Sacred Order by not learning how to adapt." The bounty hunter explained. "After our last fight, I trained myself to focus my hits along the edges. It takes quite a bit of concentration, but even your 'sword-proof' skin isn't going to help you this time. You may take a lot out of me, but you're not going to win this. And believe it or not, I don't want to have to kill you. Not even after England. Just stand down now."

Testament glared. "Then you _will_ have to kill me, because the only way you are getting to her is over my dead body."

Sol panted a few more times before taking in a deep breath, and then readied the Fireseal again.

"You can have it your way, Testament."

The Gear indicated nothing more, just simply readied for another attack. Even so, Sol realized things were only going to stay hot for a while. This was taking a lot out of him too. He had to keep up his current level if he hoped to put him down, and he couldn't afford to get lax yet. He needed to keep his focus. He could tell Testament was waiting for the first opening he could get, after all.

"What the… Oh no…not _you_ again!"

Sol, in spite of his focus, found himself turning to the sound of the voice. It wasn't Chipp or any other male, but the sound of a young woman. For a moment, his eyes drifted to the periphery of the area, and he spotted a girl in orange and black with a giant anchor for a weapon, dressed like some sort of pirate. There was another individual behind her, but his mind didn't have time to register her appearance. He only thought one other thing.

 _Damn._

He had broken his focus.

Sol attempted to turn back to Testament, but it was too late. In an instant, the Gear was on him, and driving the end of his scythe deep into his chest. The bounty hunter's face contorted in pain as his blood erupted from the wound where the matching-color scythe plunged into him, and his arms faltered as he watched it sink farther and farther into him, pain flooding his senses and radiating through his torso. Yet the Gear wasn't done there. Even as the blade sunk in, one of those blood-red runes began to trace itself in the air around the end of the weapon. Sol just managed to see it before the pain and trauma began to make his vision blur…

And then, it ignited, sending a fiery explosion slamming into his chest, and sent him flying into the woods from the force of the eruption like a missile, right before the world went to black.

* * *

May was rather aghast. She had no idea who that guy in red was, but now that she saw the ugly-looking pale-skinned guy from England stab him with his scythe and then do some sort of explosion which sent him flying a couple hundred feet into the rapidly-darkening woods and out of sight, she began to notice that the guy wasn't looking as good as he did back in England. In fact, he looked tired and a bit roughed up. That indicated that the guy in red was doing a good job of beating him up, and she had just interrupted it and probably got him killed. Now, _she_ had to deal with him. The thought made her swallow a bit.

By now, the sun was low enough where it was able to break through the trees and trunks behind May and leave a red-orange glow behind her and her new companion. The result cast their shadows against the forest floor, with May's being a bit taller due to her being ahead. As for Dizzy, she was cringing behind her again, which only figured. If she had been terrified of _her_ , then the Gear had to be a lot worse.

 _Wait a minute…this guy's a Gear, isn't he?_

 _Then that means…the Gear I have to whack is…_

The pirate swallowed once before speaking out. "You better keep way back, Dizzy…" She hefted her anchor a bit once again. "I've got this guy…uh…I think…but at any rate, um…if it looks like things aren't going to well, you should probably run away without looking back…"

 _Oh man, I wish Johnny was here…_

 _No! Snap out of it! This is_ for _Johnny!_

Gritting her teeth, she looked to the Gear in determination even as he took a few breaths to get his own bearings back, and then stood up straight and looked to her, holding his own scythe before him. She nearly balked, but held her ground.

"I remember you, you bastard!" She shouted out. "You're the one who had me caught in that oversized Venus fly-trap…uh…thing back in England! Well, you don't have any plants to help you now!" She froze after saying that, looking around to the numerous trees, grimacing, and then snapping back to him. "And you can't sucker punch me either! If you're the Gear they're offering that load of cash for, I'll be more than happy to knock your block off! It's just a nice bonus for me! So let's go!"

The one she remembered as Testament stared back at her silently. After a moment, his eyes turned away from her, no longer focusing on her face.

"…She confessed she was here for the bounty, didn't she?"

May's own determined look faltered a bit at that. "Huh?"

"And you went with her anyway. Do not be so foolish in the future. You were fortunate."

The pirate's face turn confused and she blinked. "What the… What are you talking about?"

"So what are you waiting for?" Testament went on. "Kill her."

"Hey you!" May shouted, raising one of her hands and snapping her fingers. "At least look at me if you want to say crap that makes no sense!"

Yet before she could pout anymore, or Testament could say anything else, she heard a small voice behind her.

"I…I don't…want to… Neither does Undine…"

It was Dizzy.

At once, May's anger abated and the color drained from her face. Everything clicked. Not only how she had met Dizzy, but everything she had been saying since then…

Testament narrowed his gaze. "And what does Necro say?"

An audible swallow. "But…he…he _always_ wants to kill…"

"Perhaps until you are a safe place, you should heed him." The scythe was hefted. "I'll do it for you again, if you like, and you don't have to watch…but you'll have to get used to it sometime. It's the only way our kind can survive."

"No…wait. I'll do it."

May noticed the shadow on the ground from Dizzy changed. She saw what looked like a thick length slip out from under her dress…like a tail…with the shadow of a bow tied to the end, no less. But more importantly, she saw larger shapes break out from behind the main body of the young woman, spreading forth like wings. Yet they weren't perfectly formed…at least, not after a few moments. They began to misshape; growing larger and more elaborate.

The pirate turned around in a flash.

She wasn't sure what she saw exactly. One moment, she thought she saw an angelic goddess wreathed in blue…the next a hellish ghoul wreathed in a greenish-black…and finally the face of Dizzy, her eyes as red as rubies now…

Then nothing.

* * *

In the time it took to navigate the woods, even going as fast as possible, the sun had lowered enough to where the area was being plunged into darkness. Even if outside the wood there was still light enough to see, within the searchlights on the vehicles were necessary. The country was simply too rough and uneven to get there quickly or "straight as the crow flies". They were forced to take their time, and it was nearly thirty minutes before they did. Yet on arrival, Ky wasted little time. Since the transport was barely able to move faster than walking speed this late at night anyway, he leapt out of the vehicle at this point and took his position at the head of the ground units as they reached the area.

A rather unwelcome sight awaited him.

There were still several smoldering fires from vehicles and equipment, providing a dim, fiery glow over the area. There were signs of explosions in numerous spots, although Ky wasn't sensing any powerful magic residuals on them. They had to either be magic-imbued explosives or conventional ones. Yet that paled in comparison to what else was there, namely fallen officer. The IPF team that had been sent to cut off the Gear from the north had been totally taken out.

Remarkably, it was "cleaner" than one would think. As Ky and the rest of the officers walked forward, they saw themselves surrounded by people in sore need of medical attention. Each officer had been dropped with a single weapon strike. Some of the weapons varied, but the far bulk of them seemed to have been felled by a blade of some sort either crippling them or forcing them to hold their own injuries rather than getting up to move. Each strike had been toward a vital. Some wounds were stabs into deep regions or even nicks near main arteries or the spine. Most looked like they had struggled at least…for all the good it did them. Only a handful were conscious, but it mattered little as their radios had been smashed as well.

Ky was honestly mortified as those with him scrambled to tend to the more wounded. He was tempted to blame a _third_ Gear for all of this but he had spent too much time in the Sacred Order for that. Gears were fast and efficient; excelling in ways to kill humans quickly. But this was too efficient… They'd have to expend magical energy to do this, and he wasn't picking up any traces beside background or what could have come from the victims. That led him to his next theory: this had been a group of individuals who had launched a strike. It certainly made the most sense. But where could these individuals have come from? Keeping a few bounty hunters from slipping through was one thing. Keeping a team large enough to eliminate an entire force of IPF members was something else. It would certainly make sense, after all. Even if the bulk of the attacks were by one type of weapon, there _was_ an assortment here. And how else could they have not picked anything up. Yet the reason he kept going back to his original idea was motive. Bounty hunters would be after the Gear, not the IPF. They might want to knock down a couple or elude them. But this much of a team? Bounty or no, they weren't going to give the money to pure criminals, so they'd have to keep a low profile…

As the captain continued to survey the damage, however, he suddenly snapped his head up. Those nearest to him saw Ky move, and they knew he only did the like when something serious was up, and quickly they reacted as well. He had detected an electrical impulse. He had been searching the whole time for muscle movements, but this one was totally different. It was still strong compared to the crippled group.

And as soon as he flashed his light to see who it might be, he found it aimed at a symbol of red sun on fabric-being worn by someone standing in the midst of the carnage.

"Freeze!"

The figure didn't move, either before or after the command was given. However, in short order, more lights came upon the individual, revealing it was someone with pink tinted hair dressed almost like an old Japanese samurai, only without the armor. After a few moments, Ky was able to discern that it was a female, although it was easy enough to mistake her for either gender at a glance. A sword was at her hip: the longer one instead of the combination that most samurai used to have. Aside from that, she was missing an arm. Only a loose, torn bit of fabric from one sleeve fluttered where it would be. There was no sign of blood, however, indicating she must have had that injury for some time.

Weapons were soon trained on her.

"Put your hands on your head!" Ky ordered, out of custom neglecting to modify that statement for her case.

The figure was silent, but slowly and calmly raised her one intact arm and placed it on the back of her head. The other officers began to move in. Ky went with them. He wasn't sure who this person was, but there was little doubt in his mind the fact that she was standing quietly in the midst of this even when their group had appeared meant she had to know something at best or been involved at worst.

"Get on your knees!"

Again, the figure complied, slowly and not making a sound. Ky continued to move in on the figure, but once he was within eight feet and saw her still doing as she was told, he elected to hang back. After that, he motioned the other officers forward, and quickly they were on the woman and seizing her. She didn't fight back. Instinctively, one tried to handcuff her…only to run into a dilemma with that.

However, Ky left them for the moment. Since she wasn't causing any trouble, he put his sword away for the time being and turned his thoughts elsewhere. As bad as this incident was, he needed to know what it had just cost them. After all they still had the Gear to worry about. Possibly two of them at this point. Nevertheless, he didn't go too far before he reached for his radio and switched it on to relay back to the transport. He didn't want to have to go all the way back for it, after all.

"Captain Kiske to IPFT-3. Jimi, are the Gears still present?"

 _"_ _Negative, sir."_ The officer answered. _"Shortly after we had to change course, the magic started to ebb. The fight must have been decided. They must have retreated back into the forest or 'relaxed'…maybe a combination of both."_

"Any chances on a trace?"

 _"_ _If so, we don't have the equipment here. We'll have to connect back with Inspector Stein."_

Ky frowned at the thought of relaying that they had yet another failure to add to the debacle, but he gave a nod. "…Very well. I'll make the report for when we contact him. In the meantime reroute as many transports as you can over here because I'm counting at least 30 seriously wounded. Captain Kiske out."

 _Command will scream bloody murder for this even if it wasn't my fault…_ Ky thought with a sigh. _Granted, I didn't do much good here but I certainly did no worse. Stein would have conducted the same operation if not worse than one, and there was no way of knowing that someone would have massacred the north group._

 _That said, this is going to make things a lot worse. This was a total disaster. No two ways about it. Between the complete failure to stop the bounty hunter surge, the injuries done to the personnel, and the loss of all of these units…we're in deep. There's no way we can proceed without the aerial craft from Berlin now. As it is, we're so piecemeal and we've let such boundary leaks happen that the forest could be getting scoured by bounty hunters now…or our quarry could just walk right outside the border into six different countries…_

 _No sense fretting about it now. Just got to get these officers tended to then think of where to go to from here._

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	14. Reviewing the Situation

**"** **Reviewing the Situation"**

* * *

"Are you finished cooking that yet? I don't like keeping a fire burning."

"Hey! I'm making you a decent meal after you tried to beat me up for no good reason! The least you can do is let me make it as good as possible!"

"…I never asked you to make me a meal." The Russian icily responded before crossing her arms and leaning back again.

Like it or not, Millia found she had a 'companion' now. She supposed it wasn't all bad. After all, the young woman had actually helped her out earlier. She wasn't used to running around with other people. Assassin missions were very much a one-on-one deal in most situations, and she would have preferred to still be alone at this point. She could definitely move faster, if nothing else. But she didn't count on this one to not have information about her throttled out of her, so she supposed she just had to deal with it. Still, she didn't like being in this forest. She wanted to head out and north to Adalwolf before any other assassins that had come for her could get a chance to remobilize. The bounty hunters weren't helping either. While she may not have had as good of a chance to make herself scarce in a city compared to a forest, she had been able to 'blend in' before. Besides, it would provide an easy way to get to Berlin, from where she could go anywhere she wanted.

She hated "giving up the hunt" so soon after finding a lead on Zato-1, but with all of the chaos going on over that Gear, she didn't have the luxury of trying to keep hunting. It almost infuriated her. If only that new Gear hadn't shown up none of this would have happened.

"So," The young woman, Jam, spoke up as she stirred a tiny pot over the fire. "If you're not here for the Gear, what are you doing in the forest? Just lying low?"

"…You'd do well not to ask too many questions." Millia retorted. "Curiosity killed the cat."

"Aw, come on. So long as we're stuck together, we might as well know something about each other, right?"

Millia grimaced at the thought of being "stuck together". "The less you know, the better you are. Just the fact that you've seen me is enough to make me bring you along. Right now, I'm still debating whether or not I'll break your neck while you sleep to keep you from talking to any more assassins or bounty hunters."

The chef grimaced. "…Even after I saved your life this morning?"

"That's irrelevant. You may end up costing me my life if I let you live."

She frowned. "You have a funny way of showing people gratitude. Especially when I'm cooking for you. What if I decide to poison this stew, huh?"

Millia shrugged. "Understandable. It would keep you safer in the long run."

Jam groaned. "Man, why don't you 'lighten up' a bit? Are things really so bad?"

"Seeing as I've made myself an enemy of the Assassin's Syndicate, yes. I double-crossed one of our own members. There's only one punishment for a traitor, and if it takes the rest of my natural life I'll always be hunted. Even more so now that there's a bounty on my head, it seems. Even if it's 'nothing personal', I'll always be a target for the Assassin's Syndicate unless it disbands, which I'm certain isn't going to happen anytime soon. I'll be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life."

The chef hesitated as she stirred her pot. After a moment, she brought up her spoon and tasted it. She reached for her waistband a moment later and pulled out a small packet, putting a bit more of it into the pot before stirring again.

"So…what do you do to relax?"

The Russian actually raised an eyebrow, looking to the chef. "Excuse me?"

"What do you do to relax? What plans do you have?"

"…Have you not heard a word I've just said? The rest of my life I'm going to be running from people trying to kill me. Does that sound like a very 'relaxing' environment?"

"Well, you're not 'running from people trying to kill you' right this second, are you? So that means you aren't doing it _all_ the time. So what do you do right now?"

Millia frowned. "Staying vigilant for an assassin or anyone sneaking up on me."

Jam blinked a few times, then frowned. "Well, that sounds kind of stupid."

The blond-haired woman glared at her, but before she could say anything Jam shrugged. "You've got to have more than that, don't you? So people are always trying to kill you. One of my old teachers told me that anything could kill you at any time. Lightning…disaster…some murderer… We're kind of _all_ in danger all the time, you know? It's just we learned to deal with it and not think about it all the time. I mean, what if something good happened? What if tomorrow the IPF or some nuke or something got rid of the Assassin's Syndicate? Or what if you went to a country where no one ever saw you again? What if you never had to worry about anyone killing you ever again? What would you do? You've got to have some sort of dream or something."

Millia's angry look abated. For the first time in a long time, she looked confused.

"A dream?"

Jam sighed as she pulled the pot off. "Yeah, a _dream_. Something you want to do with your life. Like me…I want to have my own restaurant and make the best food in the world the way I like to make it: with love and care and passion!"

The Russian looked confused. "… _That's_ your dream? To cook food?"

"Well why not? You make it sound like it's something so easy."

"You're a talented fighter. That much was obvious from how you kept me at bay. And you want to spend your time working in a restaurant?"

The young woman huffed in between serving up what she made. "And just what would you say would be a worthwhile dream?"

Millia opened her mouth, only, a bit to her surprise, to shut it again. The truth was she honestly didn't know. She had never really had a "dream". Her only goal in life was to kill and survive, and the two were intimately linked in her mind. To kill meant to live. To not kill meant to die. She had little time for relationships or even friendships, and she had lived frugally only thinking about how the success of the next mission would bring her life or be her end.

"Good food is more about than just getting a good meal, you know." Jam continued as she kept serving. "A lot more. People can eat anything if they're hungry, but think about how many different types of food we have. Think of how bored you get if you always eat the same thing. Food can make you feel bad or worse based on the situation. It can bring back memories and feelings you think you forgot, and depending on how you cook, the finest cuisine could be fit for a dog or a bunch of ramen noodles could be fit for a king. It's the best form of art. Other art you can only look at or listen to, but cooking you can actually enjoy completely. You can actually 'take it in' to yourself. So yeah I'd say my passion is more than worthwhile. Which is why I've got to take out that Gear."

She walked over to the Russian and presented her with a bowl. "Don't believe me? Try some of that. Just drink it like a cup. Sorry, but I don't have utensils…"

Millia accepted it after a moment. However, even the act of taking the bowl and bringing it back to her nose made her pause. A single whiff of the simple stew that Jam had made aroused the Russian's senses. She was used to eating whatever cheap food she could get, and she knew this meal was meager enough…and yet she hadn't smelled anything so delicious in quite a while. She brought it before her and looked down at it. Although it seemed simple enough, the scent was rather lovely. After a moment, she brought it to her mouth and tentatively sipped some of the broth, as it was still hot.

She was amazed. She hadn't had a meal so delicious since before she left the Syndicate, when she could still afford decent meals every once in a while. Considering it was made with a few seasonings, wild herbs and vegetables, and a passing rabbit, she was nearly overwhelmed. She actually found herself going back to eat more of it before long, and eating not out of necessity but a genuine desire to enjoy the food. She sipped a bit more until she got one of the larger pieces of wild tuber, but even it was well cooked. Not too much; not too little.

She ate a bit more before pausing, noticing that Jam was looking at her. At that, she lowered the bowl and looked up.

"…Is something wrong?"

"How do you like it?" Jam asked.

Millia blinked. "Excuse me?"

"How does it taste?"

She looked back to the bowl, then back to her. "…It's palatable."

"What?!" Jam shot back. "That's it? Is it poisoned or something?" She quickly brought up her own bowl and sipped it. Her look turned to more confusion. "What the… Ok, I know I shouldn't rate my own food, but this is a bit more than 'palatable' unless you eat fine cuisine all the time!"

The blond-haired woman looked confused. "It's edible, is what I meant."

"Edible?!" Jam nearly squealed. "I haven't gotten a review that bad since I started out!" She huffed. "If you don't like it, you can make a better dish next time!"

"I never said it was bad, did I? It's digestible and satisfying. More so than any meal I could have bought and brought with me. It is more flavorful as well."

Jam's anger abated, and she stared. "So…it's good, then?"

Millia nodded.

The chef nearly facefaulted. "Then why didn't you say that in the first place?!"

"It wouldn't have mattered, so long as you could eat it."

"But because it tasted 'good', that made it better, right?"

The woman paused. "I suppose so."

"Then why didn't you tell me it tasted good?!"

Millia looked rather confused. "Is it really such an important thing that I do so?"

"Yes!" Jam shot back. "That's what you say when you meet a chef and you like what they cook! You say their food tastes good!"

"…Why?"

The chef groaned. "Haven't you ever given anyone a 'compliment' before?"

"No." The Russian immediately answered.

Jam blinked. "Why not?"

"There's no need to. An assassin gets what they can get. Either a job goes well or a job goes bad. Either way, you live for a few more days."

"Well…" The young woman stammered a moment. "Didn't it…well…ever make you feel good when you were, er, learning to…um…kill people if you were complimented on it? Ugh what am I saying…"

Millia paused momentarily. She tried to think back to her experience as a 'journeyman'. "If I was successful, I was not punished. And if I did a good job I did not have to repeat an exercise. So…yes, I suppose. But this is hardly the same situation."

Jam groaned. "Look…if you're not an assassin anymore, then here's something you've got to learn about 'normal' people. They like being complimented when they do a good job. They like hearing 'thank you' or 'that was great'. You'll make more friends like that."

Millia frowned as she turned back to her meal. "I have little need or desire for friends."

"Well, you should!" Jam instantly shot back, making the Russian look back to her.

"Why? So I can have more weaknesses to exploit?"

"No! So you can have people who care about you and can help you out and make you happy and make life worth living! Do you really want to go through the rest of your life living alone?"

The Russian shrugged. "It's how I've lived until now."

"Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you trying to get away from that? And you _sure_ don't look that happy to me."

The woman paused. Happy? That was something she had dismissed was equivalent to 'idiocy' a long time ago. She couldn't remember the last time she had a happy memory. And since it tended to make one sloppy in a life-or-death situation, she considered it a liability. That said…

There were times when Millia thought about what it would be like to not live on the run all the time. It may have been the only life she ever knew, but it wasn't the only life she had ever heard of or seen. And she wasn't stupid enough to think it was how most people lived to begin with. So it was something that had come to mind and had left her more than a bit confused at points. What if she could live like that? What then? What would there be left to her? And if it was just her, would she just spend the rest of her life alone? Perhaps it was fine so long as she was struggling to survive, but what if she wasn't?

Or even if she wasn't struggling to survive, was it still preferable?

She didn't know. She only knew that she found herself doing more thinking as of late, now that her life seemed to either be simpler or more complicated than before. For now, she knew the only thing she _had_ to do was get to Berlin and get into a different country, preferably slipping out ASAP. And for that, she needed to keep her strength up. So she resumed eating the bowl. After a while, her inadvertent companion sighed, sat down, and began to eat as well.

* * *

Venom was eager to get out of this forest after that embarrassing debacle earlier. Probably the only thing that would give him nearly as much satisfaction as Millia Rage's head on a plate at this moment would have been that Japanese man's. As it was, he was looking to the remaining members of his group. He wasn't too worried about losing the last one. Even if he hadn't been dead, he'd never talk. No one in the Syndicate ever did. But as he and the North American had gone about patching their wounds, he had been rather unhappy that they had already taken damage from someone who wasn't Rage. It appeared his worst fears was right about this area being hot. He supposed he should have realized with a bounty that high there was a chance they'd run into some of the few people alive who were more skilled at killing than him, but he definitely never expected some goof with a couple fans.

Poncho lowered their radio and let it click back into the charger as he leaned back in the front seat.

"Well?" Venom called.

"Rage got five of them. Hagar said someone actually helped her out, but the six with him got caught on the way. Add to that the loss of Dylan, and we're already down to three dozen. And one dozen of those can't possibly move. They're calling in reinforcements to the IPF from all over the state and the German army is joining in. That leaves us with two dozen still able to go."

"On that note," The South American spoke up. "If we don't get moving pretty soon we're going to be targets too."

Venom would have kicked the car if he didn't want to scuff his shoes. First lead on Rage and things had turned into a disaster. Worst yet, it had only been partially due to Rage herself. He honestly didn't want to know the full story of where those five had been when she got the upper hand on them. It would just be salt in an open wound to find out that their ambush would have worked if not for that one Japanese man intruding where he wasn't wanted.

"For your information," He told the two already in the car. "You have full permission to kill that man with the fans on sight the next time you see him."

"He's Japanese…must have wandered off his colony." The South American answered. "He's probably worth some money."

"We're contract killers, not bounty hunters." Venom responded. He began to move for the back. "At any rate, let's get out of here and head back to the safe house in Adalwolf. See how we can regroup."

"You want to keep going?" The man responded. "Sh't…isn't the heat getting a little intense around here?"

Venom was quiet for a moment as he got in. This wasn't the mob or an official "crime organization". This was the Assassin's Syndicate. Even if it wasn't currently struggling in the midst of a power vacuum, there were rare occasions in which a group of assassins would "fall in" underneath a higher one over a single target. He couldn't expect to run this like an operation. There may have been some hierarchy and rules, but Venom grudgingly admitted he was only Zato-1's right-hand man. He wasn't Zato-1 himself, and that meant he couldn't command the same leadership and respect. He realized if this went on for too long, he was going to have to deal with members "walking off the job", and there was little or nothing he could do about that. And once they saw that they could simply choose to obey him or disobey him at will, then any ability he had to command or lead the Assassin's Syndicate would be broken.

That's what made pulling out all the worse. Zato-1 was still in here somewhere, not just Rage. But, in all honesty, there was no way Venom could track him down if he didn't want to be tracked down. No one could, and those that tried as of late had ended up torn to bits. Rage, on the other hand…

"We'll be pulling out of here before long." Venom reassured as he got in and closed the door. "I know where she's going."

The others raised their eyes a bit at that, even as the North American got in.

"Basic code of conduct for guys like us." He explained. "You tighten a net around a rabbit; they'll go for the nearest opening. Rage has to know she got lucky. The guy said someone actually helped her, which means even she couldn't take out five of us at once. Which means she knows the heat is on and with everything running wild in the Schwarzwald she needs to find cover. The nearest functional airport is Berlin and there's only one road for her to get there on. We may not even have to go far from the safe house for this…"

* * *

The sound of paper being ripped off went out from within the relay trailer. A moment later, an IPF officer emerged from it and walked down the short staircase to a waiting officer below, one who was frowning a bit. He only ruefully took the piece of paper that was handed to him, folded it up, and put it in a special "lock-box envelope" around his chest before securing it. He looked up to the officer who had handed it to him uneasily.

"If the situation is really so bad and we're so pressed for time, wouldn't it be easier to use the radios?"

"Too many hunters are either trying to look in on our frequency or have it by default. Or didn't you notice? How else do you think we got into such a mess this morning? Just hurry it up. We're still rounding up over 70% of those guys and we need all the manpower we can get."

The second officer frowned and grumbled that the IT crew like the one who had just passed him a paper message could lend a hand instead of sitting around in temporary relay stations, but that wouldn't do any good. Just like any hierarchy, if you were low enough on the totem pole you did what you were told and you didn't raise a stink. Besides, the one who gave him the message had a good point. There had been a major security leak earlier. It was the only explanation for how things got out of hand so quickly. Simple "word traveling slowly" should have given them enough time to perform the operation and get out. Someone had an ear in on them. Therefore, all non-short range messages would have to be delivered the old fashioned way, via these couriers.

With the message secure, the officer quickly went to one of the motorbikes they had available. Not one of the larger armored ones for operations, of course. A smaller one built for speed, pretty much just to quickly send messages as he was doing. The only specifications were for moving off road, although in this situation even they weren't nearly as well-built as the more advanced models. It would have to make use of a fairly level trail at least, and, by now, the IPF could accommodate that. A few had been blazed by the constant activity to interconnect a few of their "hubs" for communication and operations. They had been anticipating possibly needing this if for no other reason than massive magical discharge could ruin an attempt to get a signal through otherwise. Now they needed it for a more important reason after today's catastrophic failure, which the media was already eating up like vultures on a carcass.

It took only a moment for the officer to hop on and ignite the engine with a magic tumbler key. After that, he took off down the trail, the floodlight on the front illuminating his way. He maintained a rather rapid clip too; more so than what would be expected, even for a courier. Of course, this officer was fairly young and inexperienced, which was why he was relegated to messenger duty. Hence he didn't think much of running into other people in the woods, or creatures living there, or any other sharp turns as he accelerated the vehicle to a steady forty miles per hour and whipped around the winding trail. He merely whistled to himself as he went along, not caring a bit for his speed or much for obstacles.

Therefore, he had little preparation for when a strong rope made out of the local vegetation was snapped taut across his path.

In fact, he barely had time to even register surprise before he ran into this obstacle. Needless to say, his body soon halted while the motorcycle kept going, and in moment he was snapped backward after wrapping around the vine at 40 miles per hour, before the natural elasticity snapped him back and threw him onto the ground. He was shrouded by darkness as the motorcycle, and its floodlight, kept right on moving before going off the road and crashing into a tree. It wasn't badly damaged, luckily, but it did slump into the thicker understory, nearly blotting out the light all together. As for the rider, he made a rather hard impact. Even with his specialized combat uniform, the landing was rough enough to stun him and leave him immobilized for a few moments.

By the time he looked up, he was just in time to see a figure come out from the shadows of the side of the road and swing what looked like a golden rod at his head. A sharp collision later, and far more pain and impact radiated through his skull before he snapped back to the ground. This time, consciousness left him completely.

* * *

As impressed as Anji Mito was with how that had gone, how not only had his observation of this trail worked out well, but so did his trap to disable a rider and his follow-up strike, he was far from satisfied. This afternoon had been more than a major disappointment. Initially he was overjoyed at the fact he had discovered he had a natural talent for combat, to say nothing of the power of the Zessen fans. He had never suspected such antiques would have such strength to them. He dared say they had to be masterwork magical weapons of the highest quality, even more so than what most people would be capable of obtaining no matter what their means. Whoever had possessed them last clearly hadn't the slightest idea of their importance or strength. Yet all of that was irrelevant compared to his true overall goal: gaining knowledge about the Gears. In that sense, he had made absolutely no progress at all.

Anji realized his mind was sharp, perhaps even sharper than most, but what he lacked was experience. He had spent entirely too much of his time on the compound, and there were some things one could not learn from such an existence no matter how much they tried. He knew now that as clever as he thought he was in his plan to meet up with the Gear, it was far too foolish. He couldn't have hoped to just "run into it" by wandering aimlessly in the forest, even if he had a good heading. There was too much ground to cover. And he was competing with others far smarter and more well-learned than him, and with far greater resources. He was playing too much to their "game", and, frankly, trying to join in when he barely knew the rules. He needed to be smarter about everything.

However, even the keenest mind in the world could only make so much sense out of the limited information being released to the public. He needed a better source. And, currently, it seemed as if the best source was the International Police Force itself. At that bare minimum it was a good place to start. It seemed as if some of them had managed to come close to the Gear's location today. That much was clear from the group he saw coming back and, more importantly, the call for medics and the lack of media being allowed to report even though the chaos had mostly died down.

He put the fan away that he had used to knock the man out and went for his belt. In a moment, he found his keys. This would be fairly foolish if it worked…but he tried them out on the lockbox on his chest. The fifth one opened it. He nearly snorted. Wouldn't it make more sense to only have receiving officers have a key? He wasn't sure if it was a bad error in procedure or simply due to ineptitude of this officer, but he really didn't care. He reached in, pulled out the message, and then unclipped the officer's own penlight to illuminate it for reading.

 _UPDATE_

 _Operation failed. Gear eluded. Scanners picked up potential involvement of second Gear. Also high-ranking magic. Based on history: possibility of Sol Badguy. Additional hostile attacked North Group. Most in critical condition. Suspect in custody._

 _END UPDATE_

Well, there was certainly more than one thing on that transmission to cause Anji some concern. One hardly knew where to start, so he focused on the statement about a second Gear.

 _Two Gears now? Well, that's certainly cause for public alarm. I may not approve of them keeping a lid on it, but I suppose it makes sense in this case. The bounty hunters already went into a violent frenzy over a single Gear. Two of them and they'll burn this forest down to find them, not to mention the public will panic. It was a big enough shock after Justice's death, assuming that was accurate, that we have another Gear running around without commands. But two of them?_

 _This is rather intriguing. It makes for an unusual bit of evidence. On the surface, most people would probably conclude the most default options possible from such news. Basically that there's a_ new _Command Gear 'in town'. One who reactivated another to bend to its will for standard murder and mayhem, death and destruction, and that this is just the beginning and we're looking at the beginning of another Crusades if we don't kill the Gear while we still have the chance._

 _Of course, if one looks a bit deeper, that all collapses. The story, as I understand, is that this Gear was sheltered by other people for some time before it was discovered. And people do not traditionally gravitate to protecting a living engine of the apocalypse unless it looks to be in a fragile state. Nor do they continue to shelter it for some time if it constantly looks for opportunities to annihilate them and everything they own. It leads me to think that this Gear at least had the outer trappings of 'civility', perhaps even 'passivity', until as of late, where, in a typical mob mentality, it was likely tortured and tormented until the day is snapped, which many humans would be apt to do._

 _Nor are Gears, at least from a historical perspective, fond of 'lying low'. Neither Hildebrant, Adalwolf, nor any of the countless surrounding towns have been decimated: a task quite simple for a Gear. As long as it has been running around, as long as_ two _have been running around, the "body count" has been surprisingly low. Now, I would blame the Gear for that attack that happened to this "North Group", but it seems that was a third party, and last I checked neither the IPF, the PWAB, or anyone else would bother detaining a Gear. They'd just execute it on the spot. Which indicate this wasn't a Gear which carried out this task._

 _And just who is this 'Sol Badguy' that it's important to mention him?_

 _It occurs to me as I ponder these things just how little humanity in general knows about Gears to begin with. I dare say they are the most poorly-understood thing that has shaped the face of human civilization since the age of mythology. We know only that they are bio-weapons from a world that has long since burned to ash and that Justice seemed to want them to kill all humans, yet without Justice ordering them around they seem to have no purpose at all…which means that because two of them are moving about one of two things must have happened: either a new Command Gear is dictating a new agenda, or the Gears are independent._

 _Yet that only raises more questions. If the Gears were truly meant to be nothing more than dolls or puppets, then why, or more important how, did Justice have a will apparently of his own? Or_ did _he have a will of his own? He was a Gear as well, yes? A Command Gear but still a Gear. Wouldn't he have been subject to the will of another?_

 _Curiouser and curiouser…_

Anji replaced the letter in the lockbox, shut it, and then locked it again. After doing so, he went through the keys on the man's belt until he found one that was for access to IPF databases. Just a lower-level access, but still something civilians would not be subject to. He reasoned that the man would undoubtedly find it was missing after a time, but not immediately. Not as recklessly as he had shown his nature to be driving into this forest. Although there was a good chance this would fall through, he was going to leave this man more or less as he was. He was unconscious, not dead, after all. And when he came to or other officers came upon him and found his lockbox perfectly intact along with the message inside, then he would assume he own reckless driving had somehow gotten him into trouble and he had fortunately evaded the accident. Anji was sure he had moved too fast for him to be certain he had been ambushed by an actual person as opposed to just ran into a vine, even with the blow to his head. He had a feeling he'd be in the clear for a while. Even if they suspected an attacker, there was no way to peg it on him. Not with everyone running through the forest.

As for him, he needed to get somewhere with a library or access to the internet. He had some more research to do before he made his next move. And frankly, he'd prefer to get out of this forest after that morning's encounter. There were far too many "ulterior motives" going around in this place for his taste…

* * *

"Ugh…why is my mattress all scratchy? Did the girls put leaves in my bed again for April Fools' Day?"

A small laugh drifted into the young woman's consciousness. "'Fraid not. Front and center, shipmate."

Hearing that small command, out of pure instinct May opened her eyes, even if her vision was dark after doing so and more than a little blurry. All around her was blackness, and even as her eyes cleared she continued to see nothing but darkness. She shook her head a few times and blinked, but still saw the same thing. For a moment, she thought her eyes had been damaged, until she realized it was night. And based on the way the wind was blowing around her, and the sounds of creaking and rustling, not to mention the cold breeze that was about as welcome as mornings on board the May Ship, she was outdoors.

She nearly leaned up, before a hand quickly pressed on her chest and pushed her back down.

"Uh-uh. Get up a bit slower than that or you're going to regret it."

May realized why. Even rising abruptly just a short distance sent a pounding to her head, making it radiate with pain and filling her vision with stars. Moaning, she leaned back down again. She didn't dwell on that long, however. She focused more on the sound of the voice that had spoken to her.

"Johnny!"

"Keep it quiet, May." The pirate immediately answered. "There's lots of folks running around in the forest now. It's pretty much a free-for-all but we're pretty much on everyone's 'bad' list, so let's not give them any targets, eh?"

The young pirate hesitated, but did as she was told. In truth, she was too confused to do much else right now. She was still in the forest but what exactly had happened? It was still daylight when she went out earlier. It was near sundown, but she could remember those shadows being cast from Dizzy on…

Then, her memory clicked.

In a flash, May sat up; which was a big mistake as her head pounded. She heard Johnny sigh nearby, seeing as she disobeyed his advice, but she didn't care as she looked to him, or at least his general area.

"Johnny, where's Dizzy? Where's that pale-faced guy?"

The sigh turned to confusion. "Excuse me?"

"The Gears!" May retorted, almost shouting. "Did you fight them off single-handedly? Are they both dead? Do we get to collect the money now?"

There was a moment of silence. "Um, May? What are you talking about?"

"Come on! You beat them up, didn't you Johnny? You drove them both away and that's why I'm safe and sound instead of fertilizing the daisies, isn't it? I always knew you'd be able to save me in my darkest hour! No matter the odds!"

Another pause. "May…I don't know what you're talking about. I found you lying unconscious on the forest floor near what looked like signs of a fight. You had a rather nasty blow to the head, but I knew it was nothing you couldn't shrug off if you had enough time."

"Wh…what?!" The young woman nearly blasted. "You mean to tell me that you _didn't_ come to my rescue?! Johnny, how could you let me have my life threatened by two vicious opponents at once and leave me to fend for myself! You're so thoughtless! I hate you!"

"…May, you were supposed to be staying clear of them and keeping the IPF at bay." The man calmly responded, as if he had heard this sort of tirade before…which he had. "Besides, think about the bigger picture."

"What bigger picture? That you can be so insensitive to a person in trouble?"

"No. Let me get this straight. Are you saying you actually saw the Gear? And there was more than one of them?"

May forgot about her anger partially and began to quickly explain. "You're damn right I did! It was that same creep from England who stuffed me in that overgrown ivy plant! He was fighting some other guy when I went up to him with Dizzy… Dizzy! Dizzy's the Gear! It was her the whole time!"

"Wait, wait…slow down. Who is Dizzy?"

"She's the Gear, Johnny! I guess it made sense… She looked like just some innocent, dumb girl playing by a stream and I thought she had just gotten lost or wandered somewhere she shouldn't have been and I took her with me when we came upon that pale-faced jerk. He looked pretty beat up after he took care of that other guy he was fighting so I thought I could take him, but he just looked by me to Dizzy and told her to kill me! I didn't know what it meant at first, but then I figured out she was the Gear the whole time! The one who's worth all that money! He must have been…I dunno…protecting her or something… Anyway, I saw two big, nasty-looking wings come out from behind her, and when I turned around all I can remember is seeing this one really nice face and this one really ugly thing and her with red eyes, and then I thought she had blown me away…and-"

"Wait a second, May." Johnny interjected. "Did you just say this Gear was a _girl_?"

There was an edge on that voice that indicated increased interest.

May frowned and glared in his direction. "Johnny, didn't you hear what I said?! She's the Gear! She looks innocent and harmless but she's a wretched hellspawn tool of destruction! She tried to kill me!"

"Really?" The man echoed back, his voice more calm and even now. "You sure about that, May?"

The pirate blinked, not able to believe what she just heard. "Huh? Of course! Look at me!"

"Yes, I'm looking at you. You have a rather nasty bruise and a bit of blood, but that's all you have. And this was _after_ the 'pale-faced one' told her to kill you? I may have never been a member of the Sacred Order, May, but I've been around the world enough to know what the aftermath of a Gear trying to kill someone looks like. And unless this was the weakest and most inept Gear in history, I'd say she only wanted you unconscious, not dead."

May paused. She honestly hadn't thought of that…

"And…did you call her 'Dizzy', May? Why is that?"

The young woman looked up. "Well…uh…that's what she called herself."

"So, she told you her name?"

"Yeah…"

"And how long was she walking around with you?"

She paused. "Um…I dunno…maybe twenty…thirty minutes?"

"And she didn't once pop out those 'big, nasty-looking wings'? Not until that other Gear told her to?"

The pirate hesitated. "…No, I guess."

"Uh-huh… May, do you think maybe this Gear isn't as bad as you made out?"

"What?!" The girl nearly shouted yet again. "Johnny, she's a Gear! She goes around wrecking everything and slaughtering humans by the hundred and eating babies and…I don't know, pillaging livestock and causing property damage!"

"Didn't you just tell me you found her 'playing by a stream'? Yeah, this Gear is being blamed for killing all those people from Hildebrant, but now you said there was a _second_ Gear the whole time, one that sounds like the Gear you ran back into at England. Maybe it was _him_ who actually did the killing. Or maybe this Gear fell in with the 'wrong crowd', you think?"

May blinked in astonishment. "Johnny, what are you saying? That this Gear is some kind of 'innocent victim'?"

"All I'm saying, May, is that the two of us have been to a lot of war-torn worlds and on both sides of a line in a conflict. We've seen the real faces of a lot of 'saints' and 'sinners'. Maybe you should keep that in mind, hmm?"

The young woman continued to gape at Johnny, but he only gave her a moment to think. After that, he made a knee-slapping noise and began to rise. "Well, now that you're up, let's get to a town. The IPF will have its hands full trying to round everyone who went into the forest, and we both need to have a few injuries properly treated. Heh…things got a tad rough even for yours truly and I want to make sure I'm at the top of my game for when I meet up with the gal who gave you that goose egg. I would have tried to carry you there before, but…I figured it'd be better to wait until you were up so you could carry your weapon."

For once, May didn't have a retort for one of Johnny's comments about waiting until now for her to get up. She was too busy thinking about what he said as she rose and grabbed her anchor. She couldn't believe it. Gears had torn up most of their world and rewrote human civilization. One of them had nearly killed her back in England. And now Johnny was talking like he wanted to "make friends". Was this some kind of joke? She supposed she should have been happy… Since Johnny didn't seem to think much of attacking this Gear, or at least hinted at it, then she realized that meant the bounty was as good as hers. Sure, she got sucker-punched last time, but now she'd be ready. After all, when she first ran into Dizzy, she had cringed and backed off from her. That meant she could easily give a killing blow next time.

Yet on thinking of that, May realized, a bit to her own surprise, she felt a knot in her stomach give a turn.

As she tried to think back, as vivid as the image of those two faces and the red-eyed thing in between them was, she couldn't think of Dizzy and see a wretched demonspawn. And she _certainly_ couldn't see that ugly pale-faced guy who had planned to kill her back in England. She just thought of that timid young woman on the shore, looking at her like she was going to bite her face off at any moment. What more, she realized she probably had good reason. Anyone who knew she was a Gear, especially between the people of Hildebrant, the bounty hunters, and the IPF, would have tried to kill her on sight…something she might have been familiar with.

Not only that, but even with this new knowledge of the truth about Dizzy, even May realized she had talked about killing "the Gear" right in front of her and she hadn't made a single move. Even when they were where no one would hear her scream or see her true nature…

 _…_ _What am I thinking?_

The pirate didn't know, but she continued to think about it as she somewhat absent-mindedly followed Johnny, which was shocking enough considering she normally only had one thing on her mind whenever Johnny was near.

* * *

Ky continued to look through the one-way glass; his eyes narrowed and his stare dark. His fist clenched and relaxed several times. Out of all of the disasters and complications arising in just one day, this was the most perplexing. He may have been trained in the Sacred Order, but he had enough experience as an International Police Force officer to know a thing or two about how to read opponents who were human as well. This one was something else entirely. It had been a very long time since he had failed to read magic ability off an opponent…and yet he still felt a few waves of anxiety inside him looking at the person.

The door to the monitoring room clicked. Ky continued to stare through the glass, allowing it to open all the way, before he finally broke his stare and looked to the door. Once that happened, he turned fully and stood at attention.

Inspector Stein frowned wistfully as he finished walking inside. "I may be the CO in this overall operation, sir, but regardless I didn't want to waste time with propriety." He stated as he came in, pausing to give a salute.

For once, Ky waved it off himself. He broke stance and faced Stein normally. As for the two other low-level officers monitoring the interrogation room on the other side of the glass, neither of them said anything. They continued to go about their work. "What is our status?" Ky asked.

Stein sighed. "Abysmal. In addition to that bloodbath, there were additional casualties trying to keep the rioting down. Some of them were far more aggressive than others. Here and there all over the perimeter we've picked up stories of officers going missing as well. All in all…31 dead and an additional 50 injured."

Ky, in spite of his normal composure, could feel his pupils shrink on hearing that. "…31?" He echoed. "We haven't had a loss that terrible since the Crusades…"

"Except most of these people weren't Sacred Order members, veterans or otherwise." Stein answered. "On our end, we killed 23, hospitalized 20, and arrested over 300. But there's at least another 1,500 at large and we don't have the manpower or resources to find them. As it is, we're scrambling all over the surrounding countries for jail cells to even throw the 300 in or we'll have to spend even more manpower acting as guards and security as we 'tote' them around with us. We've pretty much contacted every last corner of Europe for reinforcements, but if we pull any more members we're going to see an even _worse_ surge in organized crime…and don't think for a moment they haven't been taking advantage of that already ever since we started this operation."

The captain sighed. "And we haven't even confronted the Gear yet…or Gears, I should say."

Stein grimaced. "Well, if that wasn't enough, it's not just the IPF that's descending on the Schwarzwald. As broken up as we are the media has gotten in. I'm sure some details have already been leaked about the casualty numbers. By tomorrow, central command will probably be sizing me up for replacement…and probably you as well, to be frank, captain."

"The fault may be ours for not doing sufficient to get the mission complete. And I will assume responsibility if it comes to that. But the fact of the matter remains that no other officer could have done better. What's more important than anything right now is to ensure the media does not discover that there is more than one Gear at large out there."

Stein continued to look uncomfortable. "Probably best if there's a lid put on our men as well. Some of the younger members, especially after today, we already frightened enough at the prospect of one Gear. Two of them might push them over the edge. Yet I don't know how we can keep quiet on this much longer. Or, if we manage to negotiate with command about the situation, how we'll find the Gear now even if we stay on."

"It might be a bit easier than you think. Possibly easier than you'd _like_. This Gear's signature is strong and potent. Definitely more so than that of any Gear I've ever run into before…except maybe Justice. Inside this forest it's masked, but based on the path it was taking today, I don't think it wants to stay in the forest."

Stein blinked. "It has plenty of places to hide in here, though. A range of hundreds of miles to wander through."

"Yes, but it also knows that it's been found out. Gears may be able to survive in wilderness areas longer than any human, but it doesn't want to stay some place where people know where to locate it. It has to know that eventually the world will chop this entire forest into kindling to get to it. It would rather go somewhere where no one in the world knows how to find it. Its position gave away everything-it's going to Adalwolf."

"Adalwolf?"

"The nearest city. Not a big one, mind you, but it has enough of a population where it hopes it will just 'slip in' with the populace. No one is currently alive, as far as we know, that knows what the Gear looks like. But we do know it managed to pass for a human for months…years, even. And with the regular 'circus' going on around the forest it can probably slip away through those crowds."

Stein paused momentarily. "…I'm not going to say I fully understand that logic over lying low."

"It's not in the nature of a Gear to 'lie low'. At least not in the ones I encountered during the Crusades. They were conceived to be weapons. They always look for an opportunity to seize."

The commander paused again. "If what you say is true and the Gear _will_ head for Adalwolf, then that means that entire town could turn into a war zone if it got discovered and not quickly neutralized. From the bounty hunters and the rest of the madmen who ruined today if nothing else."

"Which is why I said this was possibly easier than you'd like." Ky responded. "Which is also why we can't do what we did last time. We need to think like we did back in the Sacred Order. No large groups. No large IPF movements. An operation so indiscrete that no one makes a single move until we know exactly what the Gear looks like and where it is. More importantly, an operation so indiscrete that no one would believe it was one even if someone told them such."

"That level of secrecy isn't going to be possible unless pretty much every office is undercover and fully intermingled in with the town."

"If that's what it takes."

The commander's eyes widened a bit. "How are we supposed to evacuate the city in that case?"

"We don't. In fact, the borders of the city should be only gated, not sealed. If the Gear really is headed for Adalwolf, it has to believe Adalwolf is as safe as can be. Only a checkpoint to double-check the bounty hunters and commerce."

"You want to leave the city inhabited. Jesus…"

"Please don't blaspheme around me, commander."

"If anything goes wrong…"

" _Nothing_ will go wrong if we handle this step-by-step, flawlessly from the first day to the last. If we have patience and don't treat this as a run-and-gun situation like in a forest. But it definitely will go wrong if we try anything grandiose again. There are too many loose lips in the IPF. I'm not blaming you; I'm stating a fact."

Stein slowly exhaled. He rubbed his chin and looked away for a moment. "You realize all of this is moot if we're replaced tomorrow."

"Then I move we should start drafting the plan right now for our successors. Because while I won't say this plan will avoid a massacre both of IPF officers as well as civilians, it _definitely_ won't if they try something now. I guarantee the next best thing we can do right now is try and dredge the forest, and we don't have the manpower for that. All we'll do is drive the Gear to any one of two dozen other towns that it can escape through and then we'll lose it for years…possibly forever. If there's another Gear already aiding it, we can't afford that."

The commander exhaled.

"…Very well. I'll see what we can do, but I'll need your help drafting this plan to make it look right. You're far more experienced than me, captain."

"I will. Right after this."

His eyes drifted over to the mirror.

"I want to see where this woman fits into all this…"

* * *

The pink-haired woman was as still as a statue five minutes later when the door to the interrogation room opened, just as she had been before now. Her face was clear at this point; one long scar having turned one of her eyes into a dead, white orb. Her remaining eye, however, seemed as soulless as the first even if it still had color. It was an odd sensation. She looked almost completely non-living, as still and motionless as she had been for the better part of four hours. Yet one could tell looking close enough that she was indeed alive, which was all the more unsettling. How anyone could sit there for four hours not even shifting weight…

Ky felt much the same way as he stepped into the room, slowly closing the door behind him. The chamber was so silent that the echo was palpable. His own steely blue gaze looked up to the suspect, although at this point calling her a suspect was a mere formality. Her clothing and weapon had been analyzed by now. Both were fairly clean, especially the blade, which had been wiped recently before she had been recovered, but it still contained residual bits of human blood on it that the analyzers had picked up. It was impossible to link the DNA to the dead officers for right now, but the forensics group in Berlin they had forwarded images of the dead bodies and weapon to agreed that the major cause of death from most of the injuries was a katana blade similar to the one the woman had on her possession. That was in lock-up now. However, there were no traces of any of the other weapons that had been used to kill. That indicated that there were others involved. Metal detectors hadn't shown up anything else on her body so they hadn't gone to a strip search. The only item of note was a magical trace from a ring about her severed limb, but since it was common practice to wear such devices among amputees to negate "phantom limb" pain, that was hardly noteworthy.

Frankly, Ky had a hard time believing at first that others weren't involved all along, looking at the woman now. She was muscular and toned, but she was still missing an arm and an eye. Ky had seen members of the Sacred Order try to go back into action after the loss of a limb or their depth perception. They didn't live long. However, always a dutiful soldier, he looked her up.

It took some time to find any records, and what he found was fairly flimsy at best. However, there had been a few reports of an undocumented bounty hunter reported as: "Japanese-themed", "kimono-wearing, pink-haired", "reflecting earlier Japanese culture", "seemingly from a Matsuri festival with pink hair", "one-armed individual with Japanese attire", and the like that seemed to match this description. They were world-wide, however. One in China, one in Indonesia, one in the Middle East, one in South Africa, and one in Canada. The South African one was the only one that had a name on record, although it wasn't much of one: "Baiken". It was a place to start, however.

Ky was calm as he moved toward the statuesque woman. He got within about ten feet of her and no closer, in spite of her being restrained and his own "lightning-fast" reflexes. Restraining her had been an exercise in and of itself. Standard handcuffs wouldn't work, so after cuffing her to the metal chair welded to the ground, they handcuffed her one arm to the rear leg. Rather uncomfortable, but not so much as a "clink" from the cuffs had gone out in four hours. She didn't even appear to see Ky as he grabbed a nearby chair, pulled it before her, and sat down inside of it.

Once there, he folded his hands in front of him and fixed her with a stare. From his position, her gaze was in his direction, but it was impossible to tell if she was actually looking at him.

He sat quietly for a few moments, before speaking.

"Is there anything you would like to say for yourself before we begin?"

The woman didn't change.

Ky inhaled. "I don't believe in beating around the bush. We both know why you're here. And the forensics team found traces of human blood on the sword you had obviously cleaned, as well as on scraps of that kimono you're wearing. I have little reason to believe that within the next twelve hours they won't start matching it to the victims. So…if you want to start building a story about how you were just an 'innocent bystander that walked into the wrong place at the wrong time', you had better begin now. Because it doesn't look good for you."

The woman never moved once.

The captain hesitated, giving her a chance to respond, before he laced his fingers together.

"From a personal standpoint, I have learned to recognize a killer at first sight. I know I'm definitely looking at a killer when I look at you. You have that same look in your eye…or lack thereof. The look of someone who's alive but has no soul. You're the kind of person I would consider pure evil in this world. Not the wrathful…not the violent…not even the greedy and prideful…you. The one who derives neither pleasure nor pain from their actions. Everyone else gains something. Cruel, twisted, immoral, and deserving of condemnation as it is…there is yet the chance for redemption…for salvation. But to one who already lacks a soul…nothing."

He inhaled and leaned over a bit, making his head grow closer.

"That said…if you were just a deranged killer, you would have done better. You could have murdered that group of men with ease, especially based on the cuts. You also could have picked better targets. You could have hit dozens of groups of people who would have been easier and without arousing any attention until it was too late, especially in this world. You targeted them for some reason, and once they were out of comission you saw no reason to 'fight your way out'. You had a purpose in crippling those officers. What was it? Revenge? Did an officer kill someone close to you? Did a corrupt IPF member cause you or your home village injury? Did one fail to save you or a family member? After all, you're clearly not a stranger to pain."

The woman didn't move a muscle.

Ky's face tightened. "I don't believe in torture…but I don't believe in letting the wicked go without punishment, either. And my chivalry will only go so far. I'll ask you again why you attacked those officers. Why some of them will never walk or hold a weapon correctly again. Why some of them are now without means to feed their families and have had opportunities in their lives cut short. Why some of them are in comas and might not pull out of critical condition. That might end up murdered by you. Why you would do something so horrible, senseless, and vile. What you would have gained."

At long last, a change. The woman's eyes lowered for the first time in four hours. Her lips slowly parted. When she spoke, it was practically a whisper as quiet as it was. The voice was as cold as ice and void of the slightest emotion.

"People like you always use that word."

There was silence for a moment.

"…What word would that be?"

The eyes raised again, this time focusing on the police officer.

"'Murdered'." She answered quietly and slowly. "I've always hated people who say the word 'murdered'. It fills me with nausea. If those people you esteem so highly now…those people with families they were supporting, that had saved the lives of others, that had their whole lives ahead of them…weren't fighting for life, you wouldn't even know they existed. They would have been as meaningless to you as whoever else you pass on a busy street. Yet now that they're dying or even dead, they have so much sudden importance to you that it is insufficient to say they 'got killed'. They got 'murdered'…as if there was any 'worse' way to kill someone. Tell me, since you seem to be a holy man of sorts, the way you wear that Sacred Order uniform…"

She leaned back slightly, as if easing up.

"When you hear of an innocent child dying in a flood or a landslide, do you ever look at God with such loathing and spit accusations of 'murderer'? Have you ever tried to interrogate him for a motive?"

Ky felt a fire in his belly at that, but he stayed calm for now.

"…You still haven't answered my question. I _will_ have an answer, no matter how long you stall."

"If you wish to obtain a pearl, you must first drive a knife into the body of an oyster and not stop until you have sliced it into two bloody halves."

"And is that how you saw the lives of those men? As 'oysters'?"

"Wolves do not get very far in life pausing to 'get to know' the sheep they will devour. You say I have no soul. Do _you_ lack a soul because you have partaken of meat in your life? Was it a sin for you to slaughter a creature made by your God who had no 'sinful nature'? No. It was never personal between you and your meal. It just was something that needed to be done. Nothing more."

The captain didn't shift. "And what 'needed to be done' today?"

"Are you familiar with 'hate', officer?"

Ky didn't like the fact a question had been turned on him. "I am."

"Personally or indirectly?"

"Both."

"What do you hate more than anything in the world?"

"Evil."

"How convenient. I'm sure that allows you to kill any number of people without any blow to your conscience. How badly do you hate 'evil'?"

"More than someone like you could possibly understand."

"Is that so? Can you recall the last time you had a nice steak or a good bowl of ramen, officer? Or would you not know because the only taste in your mouth is ash and acid due to only remembering feeling such hate for 'evil' that you can literally taste it? Do you sleep at night, officer? Or do you lie awake feeling hate and anger flooding through you and you do not let it rest; not because you _can't_ but rather because you _won't_ , because you don't want to spend a single moment, a single _instant_ , of your life not feeling endless, burning hatred for 'evil' or you would consider that moment wasted? Does cold not freeze and heat not burn, summer or winter…does the sun give you no warmth and light and the moon give you no darkness or despair…because you have long since forgot what feelings are and now feel only hate every second of every minute of every day? So much so that even flames roasting your flesh would not make your mind cease to think of hate for even a heartbeat? Has all life and existence been beaten and lashed out of your body a thousand times over to the point where you are now just a doll animated by hate? To the point where you no longer believe you can even die so long as the hate endures? Do you hate 'evil' _that_ much, officer? Or are you just another self-righteous liar like countless holy men before you?"

Ky felt a visible chill through him with the sudden passion and burning in the woman's voice as she spoke, but in the end it surged again as he felt his anger growing at this woman…this butcher…talking down to him. Somehow, he managed to contain it. But before he could inquire further, she continued.

"If you could feel a thousand fold the hate I just described, you would not even come close to feeling the hatred, loathing, and anger I have toward every single Gear in existence that I feel in a single instant of my life. And yet I feel something infinitely worse now, because for all of my boundless hatred I cannot destroy the object of my anguish. If this was the old war known as World War II, it would be like slaying an atomic weapon rather than the one that created it. I need the Gear…because unlike all of the others this one has a mind. Has memories. Has knowledge. Has the way to find that man."

"What man?" Ky answered.

"Draped in a hood with what almost looks like arms coming from his covering…wreathed in flame and watching us burn like charcoal within a forge…burned into my mind as the last thing my left eye ever beheld…" The woman answered. "Looking at what was laying waste to all…with what could have only been the eye of a connoisseur or aficionado. My sustenance…my existence…"

She paused briefly.

"…Their maker."

Ky leaned up slightly. "…The maker of the Gears?"

The woman said no more.

"The Gears came into being long before either of us were ever born." Ky continued. "Do you really think anyone involved in their creation would still be alive?"

No answer.

Ky nearly wanted to sigh. This was what this was all about? Insanity? Truth be told, little was known about how the Gears originated. Any records that might have been around would have long since been eliminated. However, it was a fairly safe bet to assume that anyone involved in the initial construction who hadn't been destroyed in their war had died of old age by now. Magic introduced ways to increase longevity marginally, but not that much. Gears may have had strange life spans, but humans were still far from Gears to have been able to extend their own lives in the same way. The way this woman talked of anger and rage "sustaining" her…all from having seen something that, based on her scarring, likely occurred when she was a child…all boiling down to what seemed to be a crazed revenge plot against a ghost.

"So I am to assume the reason you were ready to _murder_ those officers," He continued, making sure to use the word. "Was because you didn't want our operation to succeed? Because you didn't want us killing the Gear?"

" _No one_ is allowed to touch that Gear but me." The woman answered, her voice suddenly growing cold…and deathly serious. "Anyone who stands in between me and the Gear takes their lives in their own hands."

Technically, the woman hadn't directly admitted to anything yet. Ky had been keenly noting her choice of words, and not once had she actually confessed. Not directly, at any rate. This was about as close as he figured he would get right now. And by now, he felt the woman may have been skilled, deadly, and motivated…but was also psychotic. Therefore, he had little else to say to her or a desire to waste time. With her secure, he needed to worry about framing the plan to incarcerate the Gear. With that, he began to rise up again. Once he was up, he grasped the chair and slid it aside, back to its previous position.

"That's all I have for now. There's only one question that still eludes me. If you're truly so focused on keeping anyone from reaching this Gear besides you, then why did you so readily surrender into IPF custody?"

The woman shifted her body back into its previous position, and aimed her eyes forward just as before.

"…What makes you think I'm so securely in your custody now?"

No one was able to get another word or movement from her for the next 12 hours.

* * *

 _Well this certainly does suck…_

Chipp, by now, was rather sore and dirty. Like it or not, he had soon been forced to take Sol's advice not long after running in the forest. He heard sounds of a struggle and what seemed like a lot of energy going out, but, not used to the "acoustics" of a forest, he lost track of where it was coming from fairly quickly. It took him hours to find what was likely the source, which at that point looked only like a battleground with no clear winner but quite a bit of blood. He couldn't afford to look around too much, because it was around this time that the various bounty hunters and other fortune seekers began to flood the forest. He realized he had left the motorcycle in a prime place to get stolen, and that was the only thing he could find his way back to anyway. So he returned, somewhat hoping Sol would be there as well, and just in time as one hunter was already looking it over.

Fortunately, this one hadn't been nearly as difficult as the man in black and fell easily, but now his unconscious body served as a flag in addition to the motorcycle. It soon attracted two other hunters, which meant he had no choice but to move the motorcycle before he got swamped. His body was still in pain from the earlier fight, after all. Of course, that would ruin any attempt Sol would make to return, but after a few hours of waiting he realized he had to move.

That was over 24 hours ago at this point, and by now he fully realized his situation. Not only did he have to keep disabling whoever wandered around, which luckily wasn't too many, but he honestly didn't know what to do from here. He didn't know how deep he was into the Schwarzwald and how to get out of it. If he went the wrong way it could take weeks to walk out. Not to mention the place was still surrounded with "rival interests" and IPF officers. In short, a huge mess. Finally, to stack one last thing on top of it all, he was rather hungry at this point and the seasons had crossed their "threshold". The leaves had fallen to the point of leaving some trees bare and the rest were falling, exposing cold, icy, biting winds.

He actually suppressed a shiver as he crossed his arms in front of his chest for warmth, looking to the sky. The sun was nearly setting once again and it would be dark soon and _really_ cold then. The canopy had thinned out enough to see the sky only to be replaced with a gray haze of clouds, making finding the sun to plot by harder than ever. Plus, he wasn't sure if it would be a good idea to just head north even if it cleared up.

 _This is what I get for pairing up with guys that kick my ass…_ Chipp thought unhappily. So much for this getting him closer to the Gear or understanding what was up with it. All that had happened was he had gotten in an indecisive fight with some guy in black glasses who had used the opportunity to insult him, and then been stuck here.

However, his latest round of annoyance cut off when he heard a slight noise nearby. Very slight, definitely not someone romping through the forest on the dead leaves without thinking about what they were doing. It caused him to quickly look in the direction of the noise and ready himself. Seemed it was time to knock out someone else… At the bare minimum, he wouldn't abandon the motorcycle. It was worth money if nothing else, and if he could figure out how to ride it like Sol did maybe he could get out of here quicker. Looked like he would have to move again, though…although he didn't bother hiding himself now. He figured he'd just get it over with right away.

Yet as he primed himself to attack, he froze again without executing it a moment later. It was Sol who emerged from around the side of a trunk and approached both him and the motorcycle. True, it was a bit dark out, but it was unmistakably him.

Chipp lowered his sword arm and nearly scowled. "Where the hell have you been? It's been over an entire day! What was I supposed to think during all that?"

"I don't recall letting you follow me to act as my 'mother'." Sol simply stated as he kept approaching.

"Mother sh't…I don't appreciate being made your f***ing attack dog without any warning. Did you expect I was just going to watch your motorcycle forever? Or that I wasn't supposed to think you had just ditched me?"

"Well, now you know the answer to both questions."

Chipp was about to go into another tirade, but as Sol got closer, he paused. He noted that some things were different. Sol's sword, which he had yet to ever see naked, was no longer bandaged and hanging from one of his fists in an underhanded grip. However, that same fist was on his side and seemed to be bracing himself a bit. As he got closer, the ninja noticed he was actually _limping_ a little, and the smell of ash and sulfur was coming from him. A bit closer and he saw the reason why. The edges of his scant bit of clothing he wore on his chest were burned, and what looked like a rather nasty wound across his chest…a slash with a burn in the center of it…was present.

The oddest thing, however, was that while the wound was still there and exposed, it didn't look fresh. It seemed as if it had been healing for a week.

 _But he was only gone for a day…and he sure didn't have it before…_

Assuming it was a trick of the light, his irritation vanished as he looked him over. "You ran into the Gear?"

"One of them I engaged. The other I saw only briefly."

On hearing that, the ninja couldn't help but stiffen. "So…there _are_ two of them. Just beautiful…and I'm guessing one isn't very 'nice'?"

"No indeed. You know him personally: Testament."

Now the ninja really did react. "That white-skinned son of a bitch from England?! I thought you wasted him!"

"So did I. Apparently not. I'll admit…his tenacity impresses even me. He's beyond that of other Gears. Then again…none of the others ever had the 'privilege' of being motivated about anything… He's still weak from England but strong enough to be lethal. He ended up using the appearance of the other Gear as a distraction to land a serious blow."

Chipp looked him over, and exhaled. "Why do you think he decided to spare you?"

"He didn't. I too am more tenacious than most people realize…"

The ninja grimaced. "Great. Why is he here?"

"Simple enough." The man answered as he limped past Chipp toward the motorcycle. "You should probably be able to guess based on what you know of him."

The young man hated it when these questions were turned back on him, but he exhaled. "Well, back in England he ended up wanting Justice revived, right? He wanted the Gears to have a new revolution? Restart the Crusades? Probably wants to use this one too hoping he can start that up again."

"Not anything nearly so specific. He wants the survival of his species and he believes humans will never allow that. Perhaps this new Gear has the ability to become a Command Gear and perhaps she does not."

"Wait…did you say sh-"

"But it wouldn't matter. Testament is a rarity…perhaps even unique: a Gear who is still functional without Justice. And now he's found another of his kind who is the same. He was once a human, and when he was he subscribed to notions of chivalry. Even if he could gain nothing more than a purpose from this Gear, it would be sufficient. He wants to protect her."

As he reached the motorcycle, he pulled it out and began to move it to a location to ride. Chipp paused at these new revelations, especially surprised at the "she". He had sort of assumed all Gears were males be default. It would explain why they couldn't breed, after all. He finally shrugged. "Well…this might work out. To be honest, aside from you, I can't really see anyone kicking that dude's ass…"

"You give him too much credit. At this point, in his physical condition, if he could beat someone like Ky Kiske I would be seriously impressed with him. But even if that was the case, it's not, how you would say, 'healthy' for the Gear to remain with him."

"…I don't follow."

"I thought I had been clear a few nights ago about how important it is that this Gear not turn into the 'monster' that human society sees her as. If she stays with Testament, constantly hearing about how much everyone fears and hates her, being reinforced with the idea that it's 'us or them', it's only a matter of time before she kills. Especially since she's more powerful than Justice, apparently."

Now the ninja's face really did turn to shock. "Wait…what?! Wasn't Justice the strongest Gear in history? The one that the whole Sacred Order couldn't take down?!"

"More or less." Sol answered as he got on board the motorcycle. "Get on."

Chipp paused, but then began to move over to the vehicle himself. "If she's that strong and running around on her own, what if she's a Command Gear just like Justice? What if that's the reason that one Gear is helping her? Even if not, with that much raw power…"

Sol looked to him; his gaze, even in the darkness, strong enough to make him stop talking immediately.

"Are you saying that you're reconsidering your earlier view that the Gear 'deserves a chance'?"

The ninja hesitated, even stopping in his step. He held for a few moments.

"…No."

"Then little has changed other than the need for urgency. Get on."

Chipp frowned. He didn't even get an apology for earlier…although he supposed he could overlook it based on the injury. Instead, he moved forward and reluctantly began to get on the back of the motorcycle again.

"What's the move anyway? "The forest is stuffed with fortune seekers. How are we going to find that Gear now? Especially without leads?"

"I know where they're going." Sol answered.

Before Chipp could ask for an explanation, the motorcycle took off into the forest.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	15. Suburban Life

**"** **Suburban Life"**

* * *

Adalwolf was like many small towns in the world nowadays; still in that transitioning point between what cities 'used to be' and what they had been during the Crusades. Unlike Hildebrant, which had stayed afloat mostly via subsistence farming and logging, this town at least had an industry or two bringing in a steady state of income. Aside from the main road and square in town, most of the streets were gravel and blacktop, but at least there were roads that weren't churt or dirt. While the bulk of income was still logging, it actually had commanded enough "prestige" due to its proximity to Berlin to have two separate assembly plants that drew in some additional dollars. Most of the home were small and a fair section of the city, even this far after the end of the Crusades, was made out of either forest materials or whatever scrap could be found, but some of the buildings still stood from prior to then and others had been built around it since. There was actually a fistful of stores that sold goods that weren't local.

The main cause of this, somewhat naturally, was the presence of a fairly large cathedral near the center of town. As the Crusades had not just been cleverly named but represented in many parts of the world a resurgence of spirituality and even religion, to say nothing of art or ancient architecture, the city was actually home to a stone cathedral. It wasn't as old as the ones from the Middle Ages. More like it approximated the Gothic style and was built with more modern technology and techniques prior to the war breaking out. Yet it was a cultural landmark, not only having managed to stand during the entire Crusades when much of the world was reduced to rubble, but infamously housing refugees and/or Sacred Order members on the eve of major battles on four different occasions. Cultural and historical significance alone made Adalwolf more attractive than many of the smaller towns and had helped it grow.

Since this town, while small, had all the amenities of a modern town, one would think it might have been a bit more overrun than Hildebrant. However, Hildebrant had been the starting point for the entire situation with the Gears, so that was more desirable. And now that hundreds were in the Schwarzwald, many of them were brave enough to camp there or migrate to closer towns on the periphery. That wasn't to say Adalwolf didn't find itself "slammed". On the contrary, they easily had more people using the town now than ever, to the point where resources were getting strained yet the economy was booming. However, the situation had not degenerated as in Hildebrant. One of the advantages to being a nicer town was there was some measure of law enforcement and order, and that tended to turn aside the roughest types.

And that was just how Johnny liked it.

Oh, there was IPF in this city…but not much. Not nearly enough to be a problem, even for a well-known criminal. Local law enforcement didn't care too much about internationals at this moment, and it seemed the police were setting up the bulk of shop on the outskirts of town, only acting as a roadblock. Efficient, the pirate thought. The nearest hub for travel was Berlin, and the fastest way there was the road. So why bother trying to make a perimeter for felons and suspects all around the forest when you could just "watch the proverbial gate"? They didn't care who came into town, only who tried to leave it back for the road. That meant that anyone could come and go as they pleased for the moment, provided it was to and from the forest.

This was something the pirate could use. It was easy enough to get a broadcast out through here back to the May Ship, even with it at a distance. Good thing, too. Berlin was sending in more air support and they didn't need to loiter. By the end of the day, they might have an actual military airship circling Adalwolf or at least the region. With them safely out of radar range, both sides could "lie low". Johnny didn't even see any IPF members bothering to look around the local general practitioner's office who patched him and May up. This would do nicely, and with far lesser crowds than Hildebrant…at least for the moment.

But most of all, Johnny realized he had something very powerful in his possession that no one else in this entire country had: a description of what the Gears looked like. While he pitied whatever poor bastard May said she saw get wasted by the male Gear, thanks to this 'Dizzy' having a conscience May was the only one who had seen both in the flesh. Which meant when they tried to slip out of the Schwarzwald, which he was sure they would, and make for Berlin through Adalwolf, which he was _definitely_ sure they would as well, they'd do so trying to pass as humans and he'd see them. He wasn't sure about the 'homicidal' one, but it seemed that the blue-haired one could indeed be reasoned with. With any luck, he'd catch them when they came though…at least the female one…spend a night having a nice chat, and before dawn the next morning they'd have the May Ship do a fly by on the first lapse in security and everything would be done.

He also couldn't help but think a bit more highly of his prospects on learning that the Gear was a girl.

One with greater blessings in the chest region than most of the rest of the crew as well, it seemed…

There was only one last detail to fix up: a good vantage spot. And where better than the local inn in Adalwolf? It may not have been five star, but it had an excellent place for pancakes in the lobby. Better than anything they could have gotten in Hildebrant for sure…or the May Ship, for that matter. And a room with a view of the street would do just fine. With the influx of people in town, one would think it would be sold out by now, but apparently the proprietor was a shrewd man. On seeing everyone rushing into town for a room and filling up his normally empty listing, he realized the last few rooms were quite a valuable commodity and had changed prices accordingly; enough to where his last four rooms were quite a luxury and had driven most other hunters and the like to search for lodging elsewhere or to just camp wherever they could. Seems there was still room after all.

Unfortunately, that brought up another problem that he had assumed would arise, and now had confirmation.

The desk clerk looked up from the book and looked across the desk, where the man-in-black and his first mate, who garnered more than her share of stares from the local patrons from having her giant anchor nearby leaning against the wall, were standing. They soon developed the tone of a true haggler. "Well…as it turns out, we have four rooms, but only one of them still has two beds, so it's worth a bit more than the single rooms at the moment…"

May dug her boot a bit into the floor and looked up a bit shyly toward the captain. "Um…Johnny, if we wanted to save money, we could always just share a bed…"

Johnny let out a single chuckle. "Sorry, May. But a single mattress between two people? Our backs would never forgive us."

The young woman huffed almost disappointedly.

"Sure, we'll take the double room. How much do you want for it?" Johnny went on.

"Like I said, we have a bit of a 'scarcity' issue in this town now." The clerk answered. "And so…we're going to have to ask for a rate of 200 a night."

Johnny gave out a whistle. "Well now…that's a lot of European notes, isn't it?" He said as he reached for his pocket.

"I'm afraid I wasn't giving you the price in European notes, sir." The clerk answered, causing him to pause. "The amount is in World Dollars."

The man-in-black went rigid as a statue, his smile fading slightly. May, however, nearly hit the ground with her jaw. "200 World Dollars?! You highway robber! We could stay in the royal suite at a Russian palace for that much, and you want it for your nasty rat hole?!"

The clerk's eyes narrowed at that last part, as he began to shut the ledger. "If you feel that way, you may kindly find a different place in town to lodge."

"Whoa, whoa…wait a second." Johnny answered, quickly sticking out his hand to keep the ledger from closing. "We didn't say we weren't interested. Just a little awed by the price. I mean…come on, fella." He said with a slight smile. "Take a good look at us. Haven't you ever heard about trying to squeeze blood from a turnip before?"

The clerk relented, but only slightly. "Be that as it may, that is our only double room left and therefore the price stands. If you cannot pay it, kindly see yourselves to the door and make way for someone who can."

Johnny realized he was in a bit of a spot. Those coins he had used in that fight with the ninja were part of one of his "secret" techniques, but they were also actual coins. He had, in effect, spent most of their money fighting that guy, and the rest of it paying the medical bills. After all, he wasn't the most thrifty of individuals, being a pirate. The truth of the matter was they wouldn't have been able to afford a single night at the European note rate, much less the World Dollar rate. If he had even the equivalent of 50 World Dollars left at the moment he'd be highly impressed. Luckily, there were always ways around certain situations.

The man in black leaned forward a bit, putting his elbow out and on the counter. He rubbed his lips a bit as he looked around, and then to the clerk, who by now seemed displeased with his position. "Alright…listen, friend. I'll be perfectly honest with you. As you can clearly see, the young lady and myself don't quite have that kind of money on us, especially not since we need to stay here a couple days."

"Then we have nothing more to discuss." The clerk moved to shut the ledger again. "Please leave."

"Whoa, wait a minute…you didn't let me finish. You see, I figured we could work something out…"

The clerk sighed as he turned his head. "Sir? We have a difficult customer here."

Soon, the manager, a much larger-looking man, began to come over with a stern and not-so-friendly look. May merely frowned at him and began to reach for her anchor, but Johnny made a gesture to tell her to halt. "Now, now, May… We just want a room." He quietly told her. "Not to have to take over ownership of this dump after bludgeoning him to death."

She grumbled and eased up, just as the innkeeper arrived. Lightly pushing the clerk out of the way, he took his spot and fixed Johnny with a glare. "He told you the price is 200 World Dollars a night. You can't pay it…get lost. There's plenty of other folks in this town who'll be more than happy with that price."

Johnny, on his part, let out a tired sigh and rolled his head back. He moistened his lips. "Listen, sir…" He gestured to the side. "That frame right there for that door to the next room…it looks rather slanted. I'm sure it sticks too, doesn't it?"

The innkeeper's look didn't abate, but it didn't get any worse.

Johnny gestured overhead. "You've got major staining in that ceiling plaster. And it's gotten colder out too and I'm sure you're feeling every draft that comes by…"

The man's face softened a bit at all this, but finally he cut it off. "What are you saying?"

Johnny gave a shrug. "I'm saying it looks like we've got an arrangement here. You need a handyman around this place to give it a bit of a sprucing up, and I am your man. Just pass along one of your keys to one of your rooms and I'll be happy to pay for it by ensuring your establishment won't need any work for another twelve months."

The innkeeper paused. He looked him over. "…You don't look like much of a carpenter to me."

"Ah, handyman." Johnny corrected with a finger in his face. "And appearances can be deceiving. Just give me a key to that double room for myself and my first mate here, and I'll get to work right away."

The man turned gruff again. "No deal. You can get a single room, but that's it."

Johnny chuckled a bit. "Sir…"

" _A single room._ " The man snapped. "You may give me a touch of free labor, but I'm not about to waste a profit by letting someone stay for free and just sit around and take up space. I'd sooner make you share a room. That second bed in there is worth a lot of money to me."

The man in black gave a shrug. "Now, buddy…"

"I'm not your 'buddy'. That's the deal: take it or leave it. If you leave it, get lost and make way for a paying customer. I've wasted enough time with you."

Here, however, Johnny's smile faded. Beneath his glasses, his eyes narrowed.

"…Alright, I'll 'get lost and make way for a paying customer'." He reached out with his bokken and tapped a space next to the desk "I will make way right to this position, and here is exactly where I will stay as each new person comes in, no matter if they are a traveler by themselves or a gang of assassins looking to make an extra buck by killing the Gear, and I will tell each and every one of them that when you opened for business the other day, you let a whole group of six have a room for 60 European notes a night. And I will continue to do so until I see whether or not your little 'supply and demand' speech manages to make them less upset when they don't appreciate being cheated. And you and everyone else in this entire building can feel free to try and remove me by force if you want, but I assure you that all you will get for your effort is the need to learn how to eat and write with your non-dominant hands from now on."

This broke the man's attitude. He hesitated; no longer looking comfortable. This, in turn, allowed a bit of Johnny's own smile to come back as he calmly waited for an answer. After a while, the innkeeper swallowed.

"…Alright, perhaps we can work something out. This doesn't change the fact that I could get double for this room, though. If you both want it, she's going to have to pull her weight too."

"Done." Johnny immediately answered.

"How dare you- _WHAT?!_ " May said at the exact same time.

"Oh, come on, May." Johnny answered with a shrug. "You aren't afraid of a little hard work for a roof over your head, aren't you? Surely you don't want us to camp outside with the weather changing, right?"

"But I don't know anything about fixing old buildings!" She protested.

"Oh, I'm sure there's more that's needed around here than just fixing things…" The man casually responded.

* * *

This town wasn't quite "sophisticated enough" to have a coffee shop. Those were luxuries only the big cities had. Besides, the world was more pragmatic now and didn't spend nearly as much time hanging around drinking coffee in one place. Still, the weather had unmistakably changed. In only a few days since the Gear had vanished off the IPF's radar once again, the air had shifted closer to winter. The trees had lost the last of their leaves, the days were more gray than usual, and there were constant cold winds blowing through the region. Everyone had gotten out thicker clothes and spent less and less time outdoors. This was a bit hard in Adalwolf considering a lot of people still did logging outdoors, which, in turn, meant that people did more behaviors to "warm up".

That included this morning at the local diner. It was quite full at the moment. Most of it was workers with the occasional out-of-town hunter, but only about half of them were eating breakfast. The other half were just having a hot cup of coffee before they started their day. Most came in groups because it took too long to get one person seated. All of them were dressed roughly and/or shabbily; each one having a hard look from being outdoors and muttering to each other about today or the world situation as they went about drinking or eating. Even now there was some unease in the room. After all, the Gear was still at large and south of them, and there was a chance that when it finally exited it would come through Adalwolf, and that concern kept weighing on everyone's mind.

However, there was one table where a lone coffee drinker took up an area meant for four all to himself. He was dressed just as shabbily as everyone else. His clothing was gray-hued from age, which ironically made good camouflage considering the fact of how gray the sky and the surroundings were this time of year. If one looked at his face they would notice he seemed a bit "fresher" and more youthful. He still had hard features from a lot of work, but not as rough as from being blasted outdoors all the time. He kept most of his hair concealed behind a cap, but a few strands of bright blond hair poked out from underneath-vivid even for this region. No one seemed to pay much mind, however, even if he was the quietest person in the diner as he drank from his coffee cup occasionally.

Over a period of time, the door to the diner opened up again. The waitress approached to let the new individual who walked in, another rough and gritty looking civilian, that they were all full, but he simply held up a gesture in stopping and motioned to the lone individual nearby. She soon stepped back and allowed him to walk around to the table. Once there, he moved in to the booth opposite the man drinking coffee and sat down. He held only long enough for the waitress to walk up to him before ordering another cup of coffee, and then looked forward to the man with blond hair.

"Sir…"

"Don't call me sir out loud in public." The blond-haired man responded quietly, well underneath the white noise. "I'm not about to let a repeat of the earlier operation due to an information leak."

The opposite man swallowed. He wasn't exactly sure what to call him now. He was so used to addressing this individual as "sir" or "captain". "Forgive me for asking…but shouldn't you hide your face?"

"No need. Everyone is so used to seeing the great 'Captain Ky Kiske' in his Sacred Order uniform everywhere he goes they wouldn't give it a second thought."

Ky was, quite honestly, a bit surprised that he not only managed to stay on this assignment and continue working with the operation, but that he wasn't pulled to begin with. It wasn't a matter of whether he thought he was deserving. Even after what happened, he still knew he was the best for this job. It was the fact that he knew those in command didn't always make the best decisions, especially after failures that weren't necessarily his fault. However, it seemed luck was on his side. There had been a severe reprimand, of course…especially since the media got word of the failure and plastered it all over the world's news. Pundits even now were discussing how incompetent and overpaid the IPF was. However, in the end, he was allowed to stay on and his judgment trusted in finding the Gear.

Now, however, it was time for the real work to begin. He wasn't going to let another major mistake take place. The first order of business was exactly what he said: setting up Adalwolf as a checkpoint. He even had a temporary prison erected on the outskirts, with lesser inmates with small sentences being held at a temporary complex and more high-security ones being stored on board the IPF airship in the area. A bit strong in that regard, yes…but lax everywhere else. Everyone would assume the only reason the prison was there was to get people who went out the rear checkpoint. You could still come and go through the city at will via the forest adjacency. Of course, the truth of the matter is it was being used at a front to quickly bring in more IPF members at a moment's notice, but that was merely the second wave to begin with.

"Everyone has deployed at this point, correct?"

"Yes si…yes. All thirty individuals you chose."

"This is a bit unorthodox for the IPF, but it's important it happens this way none the less. Everyone plays the part of being just other workers and residents. No one says a word in public about anything. Everyone looks just like 'normal' citizens."

"Should the rest of the officers be on stand-by?"

"No. I don't want any leaks to catch on that we're getting ready for something here. This is to look as mundane and routine as any other town along the Schwarzwald. Besides, we're not going to be ready to go 'at a moment's notice' this time. We're going to be more meticulous. The next step is actually locating the Gear."

The man grimaced. "That's an issue…how do we do that? None of us have any idea what the Gear looks like."

"This is where I'm going to demand a bit more judgment and discretion from all of you. We know the Gear is female from the story from Hildebrant. Therefore, I want everyone keeping their eyes open and making a mental image of every last woman in this city."

The man blinked. "…There's at least 2,000 here."

"Then you'll be taxing your cognitive powers to the limit, won't you?" Ky simply responded. " _Every_ woman in the city. I want each one watched and looking for them wearing long dresses and skirts."

The officer seemed confused, but Ky quickly explained. "There's one thing that a Gear would have that no human would: a tail. They'll have to hide it some way, and historically the best way they hit it was wearing some sort of long skirt covering or robe. Even male genders did it. I want everyone to look for a woman who only ever wears those and, on seeing that, start watching the eyes. If they're red tinted or a bright brown, then we can narrow down the search pool to a handful of people. We'll narrow it further from there and plan a new operation."

The man still didn't seem too convinced, but he wasn't going to question Ky. The captain knew his concern, however: with an operation taking that long to set up, wouldn't the Gear escape? That was a possibility but not a very strong one. He was convinced that the Gear would come through here. It was, in essence, the most "illogical" move, which in turn meant it was exactly how a Gear would think. Do what was the last thing a human would count on. He had seen it enough times before in the past, and he was convinced this was the spot. Even if it took time, he was sure they could find her here.

She might already be in town.

* * *

Nights, after a few days following the on-rush, were surprisingly quiet around the Schwarzwald, even in a place like Adalwolf. The police had rounded up the worst of the worst, and as for those who were left they tended to lie low during the night. After all, the forest was a dangerous place, and considering the fact that word had gotten around that there _had_ been a violent bloodbath in an area where the Gear should have been, no one was too keen on wandering in the wrong spots at bad hours. Perhaps it there was word of where the Gear would show up there would be some news, but for the time being hunters preferred to take their chances patrolling the outskirts. The forest area was simply too dangerous at night if for no other reason than from the other hunters wandering about looking to "thin out the competition".

It was no secret, after all, that the more "amateur" ones were beginning to turn up missing. Now that everyone had the luxury of wandering through the forest at will, they were using it to make things more manageable…

However, the sky was beginning to light up again now. It was about an hour until dawn at this point, but hunters were already gearing up in Adalwolf and elsewhere to head back inside the Schwarzwald. Anywhere else in the world in any other circumstance, some would already be in. Especially since the leaves in the Schwarzwald had largely dropped, which would make any other forest far less opaque. Yet the woods were still so dark and deep that even now it would be impossible to navigate. People would have to wait longer for it to clear up.

 _Most_ people, at any rate.

As the sky slowly turned bright enough to make out the tops of trees on the periphery of Adalwolf, a lone figure slowly slid from the forest. Had one been keeping an eye on this situation and spotted it, they might have taken this figure for the Gear, perhaps trying to sneak through the blockade on the city for whatever region. They'd be wrong, but it seemed, in this case, that was moot anyway. The individual was being rather secretive. She kept her head and featured covered with a bit of black cloth made into a crude hood and cape, and she tried to keep her bare arms and legs under it as much as possible both from cold as well as to conceal herself. She stuck to every dark shadow that she could find in spite of the fact that shadows had not even formed much yet, stayed beyond every bit of cover she could find. Her eyes constantly darted about for anyone looking as she gradually made her way from the outskirts of the forest to whatever dumpsters or boundary stones or vehicles were closer to the village, and finally toward the buildings on the outskirts.

The figure moved a bit more easily as she went past one row and then into the second, thinking she had managed to get into town undetected. She stopped looking around so much and trying to hide herself, beginning to debate, it seemed, as to whether or not she should uncover herself and go into the street to walk normally.

Yet she never got a chance as something suddenly lashed out of the forming shadows, snagged her legs, and yanked back so fast and hard she was dropped on her back in an instant. She barely had time to crawl out in pain and/or alarm before she was pulled into the darkness before being drawn upside down and into the air, as if she had just stepped into a snare. Her black cloth fell off, and her hair splayed out as well. She nearly screamed in alarm at her predicament…

However, a new wave of fear soon removed her shock and made her go still. She found herself staring into the icy gaze of the crazy Russian lady.

"I could have killed you in your sleep any time over the past five days, but I decide to spare your life in spite of the inconvenience and trouble," She sneered. "And this is how you repay me?"

Jam frowned, forming an indignant look. "Oh, come on! I can't get that Gear if I just hide out with you all day! I still want my own restaurant!"

Millia's frown increased. "And you'd risk my life to get it? You're not making a good case for keeping you alive any longer…"

The indignity turned first to fear, and then to a whine. "That wasn't all I was doing! Look…I got us some truffles and other natural ingredients!" She motioned to a small, almost hand-made satchel she had on her hip. Of course, now that she was dangling upside down, half of it was beginning to rain to the ground. She soon whined again. "Aw…I spent two hours wandering in the dark trying to get that dill…"

Snorting, the woman released her hair, immediately dropping Jam to the ground with another mild cry. As she landed in a heap, she crossed her arms. "You'll get yourself killed one of these days chasing after something so stupid. Your cooking may be good but it's nothing worth risking one's life over."

That only made Jam grunt as she quickly got into a good enough position to scoop up her things. "I'm not just doing this to feed us! I'm getting them to help out at the local diner I took a part-time job at! The boss said I'd get a bonus for making 'original dishes'."

That only enflamed Millia more. "You _do_ know what it means to actually 'lie low', do you not?"

"We've got to keep making money somehow! How are we supposed to get a roof over our heads when it's getting colder every day?"

"First off, this weather is nothing compared to a Russian winter. Second, I can do fine on the street."

"Well I can't!" Jam protested. "And after growing up in cold, hard places for so long, I try to avoid having to live in them when I can! I can make enough money doing this to get us into a local hostel with some decent food. Besides, you have no idea how long we'll be stuck here! We've got to do _something_ to make money. You don't have much on you and neither do I."

The blond woman turned her head away and snorted. While Jam may have had a point, she preferred to just do "as she always had" and stick it out on the street. But she had to admit, it was getting colder every day and they had been eating on a budget until now-a budget that was running out. And with no one to go to for help or a place to hide in Adalwolf, not even a safe house she could try to squat in, they probably needed to risk getting money somehow. And as she had little in the way of skills outside of assassination, that meant she had to let Jam do what she could. Yet that left a problem.

"I still hate the fact that you're allowing yourself to be in public view for several hours at a time." She finally snorted.

Jam, having finished gathering what could be salvaged, began to get up, looking straight at Millia.

"In that case, I have an idea. Why not come to work with me?"

Now it was the Russian's turn to look surprised as she turned to her. "Wh…what did you say?"

"The guy who runs the diner says he could use another waitress and dishwasher. Why not tag along?"

Millia blinked, but then began to tighten her jaw. "If I am this upset at the fact that _you_ are being seen in public, how foolish do you think I'd have to be to let myself be seen?"

The chef waved a hand. "You can adjust your hair length, right? Make it real short, put a kerchief around it, and no one will know any better. Most people who'd be out to get you probably wouldn't recognize you without your hair, I bet."

"I don't really wish to take that chance."

"We can change your clothes around a bit too. Come on…with both of us doing work, we'll spend less time out in the open to begin with than it would be if only one of us was. And this way you can keep an eye on me if you're so scared I'll tell people where you are."

The Russian's jaw loosened, but she kept frowning and kept her head turned away. "…I would still prefer not to cause an unnecessary risk."

"Oh, give me a break!" Jam protested, waving her hand around. "This town is loaded with IPF officers. No one's going to cause any problems. Everyone just cares about finding that Gear. It's worth a lot more than…"

She trailed off here, looking over the woman. She noticed there had been a change. Millia's "hard stance" had loosened quite a bit. Her hands were shifting over her crossed arms. She was moving her jaw around. The chef had never seen her look so "ill-at-ease".

"You're…scared to work in that diner, aren't you?"

Millia turned to her in a snap. "…What?"

"You're actually scared to work at that diner. Look at you. You're practically trembling…"

The woman stammered. "I…I am not!"

That only made Jam even more stunned. "Wow, you sound almost as nervous as I do…"

"I am _not_ nervous!" Millia nearly snorted as she uncrossed her arms and turned fully to Jam. "How could I be nervous about something so trivial? I've subsisted on rats from sewers, spend weeks playing dead in the wilderness, fought the world's greatest assassin who had power over a living shadow, and went without fear into England for that phony Gear Tournament. I've dealt hundreds of times with things that could make most adult men break down in terror or would kill them in an instant."

"Yeah, but this isn't any of that, is it?" Jam shrugged. "I think I get it now… It's not just that you've never been 'normal'. You don't even know _how_ to be a normal person, do you?"

Millia's hand balled into a fist. She narrowed her gaze at Jam. However, she said nothing more.

"And that actually scares you," The chef went on. "Doesn't it?"

"I do not know fear." The Russian responded.

Jam frowned, crossing her own arms. "You're not fooling anyone, you know. Of course you're scared. You're scared because it's something you've never had to do before. It would scare me to death if I had to live the rest of my life being an assassin not knowing who I was going to kill or who was going to end up trying to kill me, worrying if the IPF would always be after me or who knows what…but it doesn't scare you because that's all you know." She grimaced and shrugged. "I don't say I really understand that much, but I guess that means you're scared of living with someone like me. You're kind of use to either needing to kill anyone you run into or having them be able to kill you, aren't you? You don't even know what it's like just to sit down and enjoy a good meal with some friends, do you?"

Millia hesitated. Her mouth opened a bit, but she actually closed it again, as if she didn't know what to say. "Such…such things shouldn't trouble anyone…"

"But they 'trouble you', don't they?"

Again, the assassin couldn't answer. The truth was, as much as she disliked being on the run, at least it was something she still knew. She didn't know what would happen to her if tomorrow she suddenly could guarantee no one would ever come after her again. What then? She wouldn't have to run anymore. She wouldn't have to kill. She also could never go back to anything or place or person she ever knew from childhood. And if so, then what? She was a natural born killer. She had heard that for years. How was she supposed to live in any other way? How could she even _exist_ in any other way?

Her thoughts were taken as Jam took a step forward. She looked to her and, a bit to her confusion, for she wasn't used to people being "sympathetic" to her, she was smiling.

"Come to work tonight." She said. "Wait a few tables. Watch people and talk to them. Smile at them and act friendly. It'll be good practice for you to learn to be a 'civilian'."

Millia actually blinked on hearing that, even recoiled a bit. "I…uh…"

"Like I said, get yourself a good disguise and it will be fine. You have to do it sometime, after all. You want to do something new with your life, right?"

"Well…yes, but…"

"Then you're going to have to do this sooner or later, right?"

Millia frowned again. "I'd prefer to not expose myself to people in public doing it."

The chef grimaced, then shrugged. "Well…if people are going to be trying to kill you forever, won't you have to 'deal with it' at some point?"

The blond-haired woman continued to stiffen, but was so out of sorts at this point that she was fairly helpless as Jam reached over and took her hand, and soon began to lead her back into town.

"Come on. We need to scare you up a disguise before this evening. The diner owner wants more help but that doesn't mean you can just walk in."

* * *

 _Well, this has certainly been a waste of time. Then again…I suppose if answers to secrets were_ this _easy to find, they wouldn't very well be secrets, now would they?_

Adalwolf was hardly the type of city that could be expected to have a large library or amount of information resources. But while a lot of the old information networks of the old world had vanished with most of civilization, humanity hadn't been foolish enough to not take measures to rebuild it. Perhaps it had less amenities that people in younger generations might long for, such as the ability to easily social network or upload cat videos. Yet there were still a great deal of archives and records available worldwide from multiple government sources. After all, information was a big part of having a worthwhile civilization, as well as the ability to exchange it. Therefore although the local "library", if you could call it that, barely had three full shelves of outdated books, it did have two or three terminals for reference resources into "MultiParch", the name they gave to the world's current method of exchanging information over a global network. And since so few people in this town seemed interested in using it at the moment, Anji Mito pretty much had access to it all to himself from sunup to sundown of the local public facilities. The one elderly librarian never even went in the same room as the articles, and he had seen only two children over the past few days looking over the books before leaving. He was left to review at leisure.

And with that capability, he had made the place a bit messy. He had taken dozens of notes at this point. He had no money for notebooks of his own so he mostly used whatever scrap paper he could find. There was quite a bit at the public facility, but he had also scared up whatever complimentary sheets and notepads that he could from around town. He had written in pen, which he had managed to get from the librarian, which was good because he would have hated to do it in pencil or even charcoal. A few books had been cracked open that had anything of interest, but mostly all they provided was references. The real utility came from the open terminal, which even now had about twenty different pages open that he was constantly cross-referencing.

Other than bringing him up to speed on the total history, at least documented, of the Crusades, he had found little, and that information had only taken him a day or two of full research to find. The rest of the time he looked around grasping at straws. With so few clues and little sense of even what he _should_ have been looking for, this wasn't easy. His in-depth review of information from the Crusades and the original Sacred Order had turned up little to nothing about the Gears themselves. Mostly just the men who fought against them. He almost found it curious that the order that spent decades waging war on this powerful enemy left surprisingly few records of the nature of their foes.

Not much luck elsewhere, either. There was little to no research, reports, or even opinions on the Gear mentality. Every time he tried looking them up, it was always just some piece on how a human outwitted a Gear or defeated one of their strategies. There wasn't even much on the Command Gear Justice. Universally, the opinion of Gears might have been the same opinion that one would have of anything that was "taboo": it's bad, so therefore there is no reason to understand it. Anji couldn't help but frown at the thought. Even if it was a blemish on humanity and something that might have very well nearly caused their extinction, to try and ignore it was pure folly. One had to recall that humans supposedly (for even that was unclear in the official records) created the Gears. What drove them to build them? What drove them to make a creature like Justice? Was Justice's war ultimate a result of a flaw in programming, reaching a final decision due to an error in logic? Or was it something more? Was it a situation where it had enough man-made sentience in it to realize it didn't wish to live as a slave or a weapon? That it wanted more to its existence?

 _It would be intriguing if that was the case…_ He mused. _It'd give us more in common, at least…_ Yet there was nothing to that effect. Justice was simply a "demon to humanity", nothing more. The only research done into it was to ensure that it was dead. The only research being done on Gears right now was to create better ways of locating their deactivated bodies for destruction.

Lastly, there was the "clue" he got earlier. That too yielded little, although what little it turned up did intrigue Anji ever so slightly.

Apparently this "Sol Badguy" was a man of some renown. Nowadays it was in the world of law. A bounty hunter by trade. One of the best if not one of the more mysterious. The IPF kept tabs on him and his bounties, however, which seemed hard enough as he went from country-to-country. There was a good reason for that. Apparently he was wanted by them on multiple accounts, not the least of which was some sort of grand theft of magical relics. As a result, good as he was, he didn't just snatch up all the "best" bounties. He couldn't. He'd drift in and out of the countries that had more turbulent governments and do some work here and there. He rarely made it into the more civilized ones as a result, but there were a lot of major nations with corruption that gave him business: Eastern Europe, Southeast Asia…even Zepp once or twice.

In spite of his low profile, especially compared to other bounty hunters, the IPF had a fairly good amount of info on the bio, because it seemed he was a former member of the Sacred Order himself. In fact, out of the few photographs that had been taken of the Sacred Order back in their prime and made available, he was in a number of those showing the elite members. One of the two that Anji had tracked down was right in front of him, showing him near Ky Kiske, the head of the Sacred Order. It was a black-and-white photograph, and he almost snickered at how their uniforms practically matched. After all, Ky Kiske looked perfectly at home in his uniform: an ideal "boy scout" or devout man…whichever one wanted to call him. Sol Badguy, on the other hand, looked out of his element, especially considering all other pictures of him he had seen. He dressed far more loosely and "thuggishly", although Anji did note that he seemed to hang onto the red vest from his uniform. In all other respects, he looked to be a far cry from the typical Sacred Order member, however. Whether in his shots as a bounty hunter or in the Sacred Order itself, he seemed to be his own person; having the look of someone who did what they wanted when they wanted. He was a little surprised someone like that remained so devoted to the Sacred Order…

In particular, his main crime was what interested Anji. He noted after some research that it was the theft of an object called the "Fireseal". He was trying to do more research on it and with little success, although this was apparently a big deal for the IPF. He had even gone so far as to scan numerous pictures of the Sacred Order without tabbing them, looking to see if they had pictures of Sol in them with this weapon. Apparently, he did in his later years. In the younger ones he used alternate swords, but all of the late pictures that happened to catch a snapshot of him as well as the weapon showed it was the same as in his bounty hunter shots.

It was quite odd looking… One might mistake it for some sort of strange oversized lighter if they looked at it the right way, although Anji noted it seemed similar to the obsidian swords that the Aztecs used to use in their empire. Almost more of a "bat" than a blade in that sense, although this seemed to be the real deal. Yet it apparently was far more important than it appeared on the outset. It was a part of something that certain databases and footnotes called the "OutRage". What, exactly, the OutRage was was a matter of dispute. All that was known for certain is that they appeared to some of the better magical relics in the world. They had a manner of innate power to them that enabled the user to enhance magical power. In the hands of someone who was the right type, they would make both even stronger-even strong enough to slay a Gear single-handedly.

Most of this seemed to be hearsay and assumptions, but there did seemed to be one kernel of truth in it that had caused Anji to do further research. Another "OutRage" was confirmed: the "Thunderseal", the sword of Ky Kiske. And there was little dispute that he was one of the most effective Gear killers and mages in the world. And if there was any place another one of those weapons would have shown itself, it seemed the Crusades was a good spot…and that, indeed, was where Sol Badguy used his.

At the moment, having gone dry on the Gears themselves, Anji was trying to look up more about these weapons. Most of the newer articles had footnotes or little information, but he had spent the better part of an hour tracking down one article in particular. It was referenced a great deal by any other articles referring to the OutRage, but a copy of it was rather hard to find without secure access to certain databases or rather pricey subscriptions that Anji couldn't afford. Of course, contacting his "settlement" would provide him with all the money he needed to get one, but it also might as well have been a signal flare to his location. He held off on it until he had no other choice, knowing he'd have to move fast after making a query…

Luckily, it seemed he didn't have to resort to that option. He finally found a pirated site that stored copies of the articles for free. Not the nicest thing in the world to support piracy, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He only hoped the site wasn't virus stricken as he clicked inside. Once there, he quickly scanned down to his article of interest. It was actually one of the earliest Post-War Administration Bureau articles; back in the days where they committed considerable manpower and resources simply to making memorandums and copies of destroyed or damaged articles from the "old world". This particular one was archived as an old United Nations document.

His curiosity piqued, Anji clicked the link.

 _Memorandum: Details from File Overview of United Nations Re: OutRage._

 _Summary: Records indicate that there were eight confirmed "OutRage" weapons at one point. Further data indicates that each weapon was actually part of a single weapon that united the other eight, although no confirmation of this was found. Of the eight detailed, only two weapons (Fuuraiken and Fuuenken) have locations/existence confirmed in modern day. Descriptions of remaining weapons lacking aside from four potential titles: Zessen, Senga, Ekitoku, and Kojouhaku._

Behind his wire-rim lenses, Anji's eyes widened on those names.

 _Zessen…_

 _The names of my fans…_

Anji hesitated. Slowly, his eyes turned and looked nearby. Folded in a pseudo-ceremonial fashion and resting nearby were his weapons: the fans. The mysterious fans that had an unknown origin; aside from the name Zessen. The fans that seemed to be a natural extension of him…that seemed to channel his desire and power and multiply it… How else had they managed enough power to contest that one assassin? Or to slice through that massive tree trunk with no more hesitation than a bullet through a wet paper bag? To easily go out and return to him with just a thought?

The thought seemed impossible. After all, what were the odds? A world full of people, places, and things…thousands upon thousands of ways for them to have gotten lost or destroyed… Yet in spite of that, he found himself reaching over, taking up one fan, unfurling it, and looking it over.

Flawless. After everything he had put them through the other day, try as he might, Anji couldn't find the slightest blemish, crack, or imperfection on them. Anything else in the world when held up to the light "just right" would have shown an uneven surface, but not the Zessen fans. They were perfect.

 _Could it really be…?_

He held a moment longer, staring at the fan, and then collapsed it before setting it aside.

 _As much as I would love to know, there's little chance of me finding out. It's not as if the creator is nearby to ask. It seems as if both Sol and Ky got their weapons the same way I did: "inheriting" them in some way. I suppose I'll have to settle once again for something else to intrigue me but no way to uncover the secret. I wish I could find some sort of answer about all of this… It seems more and more likely that my only chance to get any sort of answer might be that Gear, but there's nothing in the existing documents that gives me any chance of finding…_

At that moment, the man's line of thinking cut off.

While he was musing over these things, he had begun to move the mouse to close some of the picture files of Sol Badguy he had found. He had moved over to the "X" of an older one in particular, one where Anji had spotted Sol without reading any of the captions, seeing him off to one side, arms crossed, not yet holding the Fireseal, and wearing that same out-of-place uniform. He nearly closed it, when his eyes drifted over the caption and actually read it for the first time.

 _Kliff Undersen's Earliest Known Field Photo, standing with his comrades outside Morocco._

There weren't many people on Earth who _didn't_ know who Kliff Undersen was, even if you were from a backwoods part. The former head of the Sacred Order who held that position for decades, who even late in his years was still in the prime of his life. This picture looked almost nothing like his normal depictions. No beard. Hair its original dark color. If it wasn't for his nose, you wouldn't be able to make him out at all. He didn't even look like he was 20 yet, and still ranked the same as many others around him. But Anji had noticed none of that before, for his eyes had been just on finding Sol in other photographs. And sure enough, there he was in the back. It was a bit grainy and hard to make out, but between the hair, the headband, and even that sort of pose he always seemed to have, it was him. In fact, he almost looked like he was turning away, trying to avoid his picture being taken…

Anji looked over the caption in a bit more detail. Other names were included, although Sol's never showed up. They seemed to give him the name "Frederick" in this picture for some reason. The most logical was that it was merely a look-alike and that was why, but all Anji had to do was pull up a picture of him alongside Ky Kiske and the two were clearly a match, degraded as the original was. Yet the date got him most of all on the original…

At least 55 years ago.

Now _there_ was a clue.

 _A man who seems like just your average, casual, lawbreaking bounty hunter in all respects…even a major thief by some accounts…not only has a back history in the Sacred Order and command of a magic weapon but apparently hasn't aged in 55 years unless this is the most convincing look alike I've ever seen. An anti-Gear weapon being brought to where a suspected "sentient" Gear is…being wielded by an ageless man who looks like he spent more time in the Sacred Order than Kliff Undersen himself._

 _Come to think of it, the media was never exactly clear on who won or settled things in England after that one Gear showed up… What I would give to look at the IPF encrypted database right now…but I'm betting I'd see this man here as well. With two Gears in the mix, why wouldn't he be? Isn't this fascinating… He doesn't seem to be affiliated with the Sacred Order anymore. Given that theft, Ky Kiske would have excommunicated him if it hadn't disbanded right before he made the theft. Yet it seems this man has an interest in the Gears as well…maybe something more than just "curiosity" as in my case…_

At last, Anji had a lead. He had been pretty exhaustive in regards to Sol Badguy on the MultiParch documentation, so there was little more he could gain from there. However, he had a feeling he might get some more answers if he could find this man and talk to him face-to-face. If that transmission he glimpsed was accurate, it seemed as if he had tried to take on the Gear already by himself. And considering how much damage it had done already, such a move would normally be suicide; but without reports of a body he assumed that he could actually hold his own. Perhaps it wasn't too terribly much to go on, but right now it was looking as if any source of answers might lie within the man "who always happened to be in the right place at the right time".

Of course, finding such a man might be even harder than finding the Gear, but, hopefully, this could knock out too birds with one stone. Sol Badguy seemed to be pretty good at finding Gears himself. Perhaps following one would lead to the other.

 _Now all I got to do is track_ him _down…_

With that in mind, the Japanese man began to pack up his things and straighten the area. He didn't want anyone following his lead, after all.

As he did so, he couldn't resist staring at the Zessen fans with a mixture of curiosity and admiration.

* * *

Sol stepped out of the general store with a sack over one shoulder. He had grabbed all he could while he still could. The goods in this town were nearly dry. Now that it was approaching six days since the roadblocks had gone up, the shopkeepers and local businesses that had initially enjoyed the influx of money and resources were quickly growing annoyed with the various hunters and mercenaries who had worn out their welcome. Suppliers were reluctant to make deliveries to the town due to the hard time it was to get back out again through the checkpoint, and none of the new visitors were leaving for the same reason, leaving a drain on the economy. As it was, Sol had to scrimp a bit to find anything of value. His bag was mostly filled with vegetable juice, nuts, some dented soup cans that had been for sale cheap, pig's feet (the only meat left in the store), and various tuber-like plants that had been ignored until now due to people not being sure if they were edible.

Once outside, he stopped for a moment to look around either side of the street. A bit longer than one would think of him. The sun was heading down by now, although the roads were still packed with people coming and going. Most were turning in either from the day or from work, or for simply going through the forest hunting for the Gear. Others were looking for whatever liquor was still in town. But Sol knew a bit better. He had been keeping his eyes open the past few days, after all. And it took him little time to start picking out certain individuals among those in the city…

With that in mind, he turned and began to walk. He knew better ways to get "home" or, at least, where he was currently holed up. More discrete ones. One that were harder to follow and, more importantly, harder to spot him in a crowd. However, he quietly walked this way in particular, and made no secret of his appearance or path this time.

Adalwolf wasn't exactly that huge of a city, but one could definitely take a while to get some place if they took their time. That was exactly what Sol did. He didn't pay much attention to the various people walking by, whether they be fellow hunters or citizens or occasionally playing children. A few of them even gave him a knowledgeable look, being as if was well-known among the circles of bounty hunters. They seemed a bit surprised to see he was there. But he paid no mind. And when a chance came to turn down a dark alley and walk through it to cut to another street, he took it. As he walked along, the people thinning out a bit and the shadows growing longer, he did it two more times. All the while he never looked miffed or upset. Just kept his nice, even, slow pace.

By the time he reached the fifth alley and turned down it, he had cleared most people. There was still the occasional one going up or down the street, but he was nearing the outskirts and almost to his destination. He knew if he was going to make a move, it would be soon. He was counting on it, in fact.

He wasn't disappointed.

The figure almost seemed to step out of the shadows himself just up ahead about twenty feet, barring the way to the exit to the alley. Sol was a little surprised. He never knew him for the type to be able to shift in and out of shadow so easily. And he honestly wasn't expecting him in what he wore, either. He nearly smiled at the thought. If he would lose a bit of his "chivalry", he might have actually managed to stab him in the back.

Unfortunately, that would be rather easy. His body still hadn't fully recovered from Testament's slice…

At any rate, he came to a halt, and stood there silently facing the man for a few moments.

"I almost don't know what to make of you out of your uniform, Ky."

"Now we're even." Ky responded; his own face cold and hard as always. "Because I always thought you looked out-of-place in your own."

Sol looked over the civilian clothes for a moment, then back up to his face. "I don't see the Thunderseal on you. You weren't really planning on leading an ambush against me unarmed, were you? Don't think I haven't noticed how you got reassigned here when you're supposed to be on leave."

Ky's eyes actually widened a bit. However, they narrowed soon after. "I suppose there's no point in me accosting you about how you knew that. You always seem to be able to find out what you want."

"Are you that obsessed with 'bringing me to justice', Ky?"

The captain held for a few moments, and exhaled slowly. "…No, actually. I'm not going to jeopardize this mission to start a fight with you."

Sol actually raised an eyebrow. "I'm honestly surprised. I'd call you a liar if I didn't know that's not your style."

"I _do_ want something in return."

The brown-haired man paused. He slowly sat his sack down on the ground and crossed his arms. "Now trying to make deals… Did you finally get tired of keeping to your code all the time?"

Ky grit his teeth, but ended up exhaling. "You know me pretty well, Sol. So you know how hard this is going to be for me to ask, and how it boils my blood to even think of such a thing. I almost feel like I'd rather throw myself on my own sword than spit it out…but I have to think beyond myself and to that of others." He inhaled deeply. Sol patiently waited as he closed his eyes for a "deep blink" and then opened them again.

"I need your assistance catching this Gear."

Sol, for the first time in a long while, looked impressed. "Is that so? I will admit, it's something I didn't plan to hear from your lips for at least another twenty years or so."

Pause.

"…Why should I?"

Ky's hands tightened into fists. "You're a former member of the Sacred Order. It's your duty for this sort of thing…"

"You said it yourself, Ky. I've cut any ties I used to have to the Sacred Order. I'm just a 'common thug for hire now', yes? And in case you haven't noticed, I work for fees nowadays. Are you trying to suggest putting me on the government dollar?"

The captain nearly flustered. "Of course not."

"Then what have we to discuss? I'm the standard of betrayal and injustice for you, Ky. You're right…I _do_ know you. And as stupid and pig-headed as I think it is, I realize that nothing short of a knife being twisted into your back would hurt you so much as to request the help of a man you've made your personal enemy."

Ky lowered his gaze. He was silent for a moment.

"Why? You've got my interest, but you're losing it the longer you stay silent."

The IPF officer inhaled, clenched his fists tighter, and finally spoke again.

"Alright… The answer is more than simple, Sol. You should know as well as I do…" He raised his head to face him again. "You heard Justice's last words the same as I did."

Sol was quiet, and eased a bit more.

"She was a murderer and a monster. No one would dispute that…least of all me. Someone to be destroyed and brought to justice for the countless millions she murdered. There isn't a town or village on Earth that wouldn't throw a celebration to dance on her grave or her corpse. And yet…" Pause. "…in spite of all of that, I haven't been able to rest easy since that day. I didn't think the genocidal maniac that wanted to see the human species burn would ever have said anything to give me pause…but somewhere between what she said and what you said, I began to realize something even if my mind refused to believe it. As righteously as I have tried to live ever since my youth, I'm afraid I've grown complacent. And in my complacency I've began to fall away.

"It wasn't to the sinners that Jesus reserved his condemnation when he took a mortal body. Not to the liars, the thieves, the prostitutes, or even to those who followed false gods. It was to those who were righteous in their own estimation. Those who had so thoroughly convinced themselves that they knew what they were doing was right that they no longer questioned anything even when their sin was right in their faces. The world was simply warped to ensure they were always 'on the side of goodness'."

The man paused and inhaled deeply. After getting himself together for a moment, he spoke again.

"We've been taking readings searching for this Gear, Sol. As much as I want to say it's an error, everything keeps pointing to one conclusion: it's stronger than Justice."

Sol, in spite of himself, felt a bit of a chill in his stomach.

"I can't beat it alone…especially not with a bunch of greenhorns who will only be like wheat before a scythe to it. I hate to admit it but it's true. Nothing short of a miracle will allow me to succeed, and I don't think God will abide me 'putting Him to the test' this time. I don't know what brings you here and I don't care so long as it involves stopping this Gear. You may not have ties to the Sacred Order, but I have to admit that you still see a need to destroy Gears. And I saw that fight between you and Justice. Even you barely managed to kill her. Against this one…" He hesitated. "…Both of us might be the only shot we have. I don't need IPF officers…I need the Sacred Order. And you were the best."

Sol didn't move or react. He continued to survey Ky for a long time.

"You said 'catching'."

Ky looked up a bit, blinking. "Excuse me?"

"You said 'I need your assistance _catching_ this Gear'…not killing, not destroying…'catching'."

Ky's face turned a bit, as if even he hadn't realized the slip he had made. However, he didn't defend the words at all. He merely stood there straight and tall.

"As I said, Ky, I know you aren't a liar…but even this I find all but impossible to believe, and _that_ is saying something."

The blond-haired man's gaze narrowed as his jaw tightened. "And here I thought, after our last meeting, that you 'knew me' so well. Apparently there's something about me you didn't know. As much as you may like to think I'm a fool, Sol…I'm not. You think I've been as selective reading the reports as everyone else was? That I didn't stop to think why a Gear stronger than Justice would obediently allow herself to be beaten and abused daily by men who were nothing but insects to her? That she would take up running and hiding in the forest rather than simply atomizing whatever town or barricade is in her way? That she could truly be scared of all of my resources and manpower? Whoever this Gear is, she's not acting like a true Gear. The fact that Testament was once human and able to make his own choices without obeying the will of Justice, even if he ultimately served her to the end, proved that to me.

"I'm not certain if this is the right course to take…and I'll hate myself forever if it is not and so much as one innocent dies as a result…but I have prayed night and day for guidance on this matter. Deep down in my heart-of-hearts, something is telling me to give just this _one_ Gear a chance…to see if I can't learn about the true meaning of justice in doing so."

Sol was quiet for a long time after hearing this. He showed no change, but inside his mind was ruminating over this. In many ways, he was still disgusted by the sight of Ky and everything he constantly professed. His blind obedience… His deference to authority… His tendency to think the way others told him to rather than for himself… Yet in spite of all of that, he was forced to conclude that he had been a bit rash with the things he had said to him on departing England. Somewhere deep inside his mind, Sol wondered if there was hope for this IPF officer yet.

"…Testament is still alive."

Ky blinked, raising his head at that. "What…?"

"He must have regeneration on par with the highest-level Gears. Not surprising…" The man went on. "You wanted to know why the Gear suddenly snapped and killed her captors, didn't you? The truth is she did not. He's helping her."

The officer blinked, but then tightened his jaw. "So it was no fluke that I detected two separate energy signatures. With him leading her around, she…" He suddenly trailed off, as if a bit surprised at what he was saying.

Sol, however, finished for him. "She'll be poisoned against mankind and become just like any other Gear?"

Ky swallowed. "One Gear was a big enough stretch for our group. Two…not possible without turning this city into ashes…"

" _That_ is the only help you will receive from me."

Ky again looked up to Sol. However, the man calmly reached down, took up his sack, and put it over one shoulder again. The former Sacred Order leader nearly dropped his jaw for a moment as the bounty hunter began to walk forward again, this time making sure to step around Ky.

"What…that's it? That's all you have to say?" He exclaimed.

"Pretty much." Sol simply answered as he walked by him.

Ky stayed shocked for a moment, but soon he began to grow furious. He actually held his fists up as he turned to him. "Curse it, Sol…I thought this would matter to you!"

"I never said it didn't. But I work alone nowadays."

"You fool! Haven't you heard anything I've said? She's too much for you!"

"Seeing as you don't want me to kill her anyway, does it matter? Besides…I can't say no to that bounty."

As he nearly made it to go back out into the street, Ky had nearly turned red-faced. He actually took a step after him, barely able to keep from tackling him from behind. He dared not do so, however. Even if it was against his code, Sol had the bandaged Fireseal at his hip while he was unarmed.

"What do you want from me, Sol? Was this humiliation not enough for you?" He shot out to the man. "Do you want me to get on my knees and _beg_?"

Sol actually stopped for a moment there, but only long enough to turn his head slightly and regard him with a dull look.

"Don't be pathetic. But for what it's worth…it wouldn't matter."

He turned away and kept walking, ignoring however Ky fumed or how many dark, hateful thoughts he currently had for Sol. Soon he was back in the road and walking down it again. The truth of the matter was he was very intrigued by what Ky had said. It had made him think of a number of new things. But pairing with Ky? Not even close. He may have been a war dog that had finally decided to bite through his leash, but he still was too timid to risk wandering far from his home. So long as he continued to operate under the banner of the International Police Force, he couldn't rely on him. Not even to keep to his new intention of sparing the Gear. Although the fact that he _would_ think that way was an encouraging thought. Sol was even tempted to try and take him up on his offer. He did have one good point: if it came down to a fight, the only chance they might have against this new Gear would be together rather than separate.

But Sol was hoping it _wouldn't_ come to that. And part of the reason he had purposely walked home this way was to 'call Ky out' and draw his eyes away from Sol's own comrade.

One thing had been learned on Sol's end from this conversation: the way Ky talked, it sounded as if they nearly had the Gear pegged and were getting ready to make a move.

There wasn't much time.

* * *

Considering what happened last time, Chipp wasn't exactly big on doing this sort of work once again. That said, it felt a bit nicer to be in his element.

Chipp had studied ninjitsu, but he had never gotten a feel for it on natural terrain. Inside a city, on the other hand, even one that was little more than a village…that was another matter entirely. He was practically a living shadow in Adalwolf. It didn't matter if the place was filled with hunters, thugs, and police in addition to normal citizenry. He came and went as he pleased. It was actually a bit empowering for him. It made him deal with his present situation with a bit more grace; which was once again being forced to do a task for Sol.

Today's reasoning seemed even weaker than that of two weeks ago, when they had first found themselves moving into this town. Since then, fall had hit and hit hard, and was rapidly evacuating to make room for winter. So much for the "long lasting warmth". The end result very slowly put more people in the outlying towns of the Schwarzwald. Right now, the village was stretched to the breaking point, although it wasn't nearly as overcrowded as Hildebrant had been. It was at a good level of crowding for him-just enough to always fade into a crowd. And that seemed to be why he was being dispatched again.

He wouldn't exactly say he had been "living" with Sol…just continuing their mutual partnership. In fact, the two spent most of the day apart, only meeting during the evening hours to share the room the bounty hunter had managed to acquire. Not at the inn, of course. That was too packed. They elected to rent a room with one of the older couples in town. Neither of them seemed too keen on having two very dangerous men sleeping under their roof, but considering that they seemed to be in a bit of financial trouble, plus they needed a few chores done around the house (which was how Chipp, on his part, had been paying for his room and board), they couldn't be choosy. And it was nicer than the street or the woods, especially with how cold it was getting.

During the evening, Sol always seemed to be the one who found him. He didn't really care for the fact that Sol seemed to get around whenever and wherever he liked. It implied that he was almost extra baggage himself. However, the fact that he _did_ keep meeting with him every night was a good sign that he still had some use for him and he was trying to keep him in the loop. Truth be told, Chipp wasn't exactly sure what to do from here. Even if the Gear did pass this way, how would they know it? There were hundreds or even thousands of people running around out here every day. How could they pick out one that looked like their target? Because of that, he spent most of his time looking for Testament, who would stand out much easier. Yet there was little luck on his end either. Apparently, he was good at lurking in the shadows as well, and this meant he was getting nowhere. The only thing Chipp _did_ find as the days went on was that this town was crawling with IPF agents undercover. He supposed it only figured. Most of them were pretty good at it, but his training made him a true master of blending in. These amateurs…journeymen at best…weren't good enough at it to escape his notice, enabling him to evade each one.

But last night had been different.

When Sol had met with him, it wasn't to report on their slim to no progress for a change. Rather, he said something flatly to him without leaving much room for discussion.

"The IPF has either found the Gear or they're close to it. The officers you've been spotting are converging on one district. The Gear has to be there. See if you can pin it down to a block or building complex. Come back as soon as you find out."

He hadn't said anything else to him, just went off. Chipp had no idea why, and Sol wasn't about to tell him. If he _had_ known, however, the reason would have been as smooth as Chipp thought he was, there was one IPF officer in particular who could read him easily…one that Sol was going to the trouble of distracting for a few minutes during the officer movement that evening. The ninja, however, was oblivious to this. He merely got in the shadows and began to follow the first officers he sniffed out. It took a false lead or two, but eventually he found one that none-too-inconspicuously (at least for him) made his way in with another group and moved on.

Where they ended up going was somewhat surprising to Chipp.

Adalwolf was overcrowded. Even those who had turned their homes into hostels had long since been cramped out. The streets were a mess with everyone camping out where they could, enough to where the local authorities were forcing them to break up. After all, the town may have been clear enough during the day, but at night was another matter. Everyone wanted out of the cold. However, even after all other options had been exhausted, there was one remaining: the local cathedral that had put the town on the map in the first place. Open at all hours for prayer, it may not have been the warmest place in the world, but it was dry and indoors. It was practically empty during the day. People who killed for a living didn't see themselves as "high" on God's list of favorite people. But at night the place was packed.

Chipp wasn't one who really appreciated old architecture beyond how many shadows and hiding places it afforded. However, this was an impressive sight. Not just due to being old but being ornate, intricate, and massive. It stood out head and shoulders above everything else in town, casting a large shadow of the smaller building and its ornamentation and decorated spires reaching high into the heavens. A fiery glow came from every tiny aperture to show that the inside was filled with candlelight for all of its current residents; perhaps even fires considering how a lot of these people looked like they didn't appreciate cathedrals any more than Chipp did.

He didn't go in, and he didn't have to. His quarry stopped at a distance in an alleyway that looked out to a large courtyard in front of the cathedral steps, allowing several roads to and through it. He himself had stuck to the roofs and second floors of the buildings around the area. There were a number of two story ones surrounding the cathedral, and he used the opportunity to stay in the shadow of one as he looked down over the officer he had been following as he came to a stop at the end, near a second officer similarly disguised. Chipp had actually seen enough of them running around by now that he recognized these two even without studying their moments, so he stayed still and waited.

The two men were more than a bit suspicious. Both of them tried their best to "casually" look around. A few of them even paced nearby to the nearest doorways and apertures, making sure no one was looking in on them or watching. After that, they both came up to each other once more and began to go for cigarettes. As they got them out, put them in their lips, and lit up, they spoke. Normally it would be too soft to be heard, but Chipp was in just the right location to allow the echo to resound back to him.

"Alright…so what's the story? Have we found it yet?"

"We're down to only six or seven left, according to the captain. But all of them are in the area. He's not going to wait any longer. We're making the move tomorrow…in less than five hours."

"That short?"

"We've been planning this for over a week, haven't we?"

"But we don't even know which-"

"That's easy. Whichever one doesn't go out looking for the Gear tomorrow. The scanners are pinning the two signatures right to this spot. We just have to move in quick and easy and deal with them. The cathedral has dozens of places to set an ambush."

"I thought the captain had a thing for cathedrals?"

"So what if he does? He better either use it or someone else in the IPF will. I mean…that's a lot of world dollars, and do you think too many people are eager to have being in the IPF make them ineligible?"

"…Good point."

"Get going with the preliminary operation but keep it quiet. The captain will have our heads if we have another fiasco like last time. That's why we're moving in now bit by bit."

The two took a pair of drags from their cigarettes, and then moved away, splitting up to go about either "spreading the word" or getting in position. Chipp stayed still as he watched them go. Once gone, he considered what he had heard for a moment. To be honest, he was a bit surprised to catch it, but it seemed as if Sol had been right yet again.

For a moment, a thought entered his mind. He seemed to know where the Gear was going to be, but Sol didn't. He almost thought of not telling him at all and going here on his own. After all, after being dumped last time he wasn't that eager for a repeat. However, that thought quickly vanished. Sol, in spite of his misgivings, was one of the few he believed he could trust wanted to give the Gear a chance. And besides, if that Testament guy was around, then he needed him to have a chance against him. Like it or not, he was stuck with him.

With that in mind, Chipp began to move out to head back to the home they were staying in. Something told him when dawn broke in a couple hours it was going to be an explosive morning.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	16. I Can't Stand the Rain

**"** **I Can't Stand the Rain"**

* * *

As the sun came up that morning, it was unusually bleak.

The recent cold chill had broken just enough to stay above the freezing mark, but the sky was heavy, gray, and overcast. It took some time for the sun to make its presence known. And when it did, it illuminated a bleak, cold, rainy landscape. It was coming down in a steady downpour, seeming to stain the entire world the same drab color. It was days like this that the cathedral seemed to overlook the entire town of Adalwolf like an ancient, primordial, and yet celestial sentinel; neither good nor evil but still foreboding and impressive. One could sit and watch the rain slowly drip and run down every facet of the intricate work of architecture…every perched gargoyle…ever apse…every arched aperture…

The shadows and dimness lingered well longer than they should have, seeming to cling to the city and prevent any clear light from coming up. That worked out rather well for the IPF.

By this point, most of the undercover officers were already pulled back. They were back in their official uniforms and getting together in groups. It had taken two weeks, but at last they had her. Through a painstaking process of elimination, they had gone through virtually every woman in the town and had written them off one by one, until at last they had a pool of about 25 women in all. Each one had been slowly, meticulously, and carefully tailed in a very systematic and delicate process that had been advised by Captain Kiske himself, each officer following the orders to the letter. And in doing so, one by one, more eliminations were made. This one because she had children. That one because her dress had been swapped out for pants another day. This one because she was too old. That one because she didn't match the details from the investigation. This one because she owned a home. That one because she was always in the company of people who were confirmed human. They finally narrowed it down to only a fistful, and, as night had gone by, they managed to dwindle the pool down to one at long last-right here in the cathedral. With that in mind, they were closing down and evacuating all of the surrounding blocks, very quietly and going one house at a time…

As for Ky himself, he was still in disguise but not the complete one this time. His full uniform and the Thunderseal were with him now as he resided in the alley directly across from the cathedral square, although concealed under shabbier, all-enclosing clothing. His head was still hidden under a cap, but his blue eyes were focused so hard on the slowly-revealing cathedral that one would think he would burn holes into it with his gaze.

When the last few suspects had all been narrowed down to the cathedral, Ky had begun to enact his move. Now that he had one building left to look into, no matter how large, he could sense it along with the scanners. They could tell the magical energy present inside. Especially since there were two distinct signatures. Just as Sol had said, to Ky's disappointment, one was definitely Testament. He knew that signature clearly from England. The other was definitely unusual, unlike anything he had ever seen before but powerful enough for a Gear. Even without the power of a scanner or a visual, they were so distinct that he could tell they were toward the inner vestibule of the cathedral. A bit ironic, he couldn't help but think…the "demons" of the world seeking to hide as close to God as possible.

He had begun to clear people out not long after. It wasn't hard. He simply had the attending priest for the cathedral go in and announce that there was a heated shelter opening with a free hot meal by the IPF to help ease the strain on the city as well as deal with any displaced homeless by the influx of hunters and assassins. Most of the people left right off the bat, but, of course, not the Gears. They wouldn't possibly do so for risk of detection, knowing that there were scanners among the IPF. With that done, the next phase was enacted. One of the undercover officers actually went inside around 1 AM. He slowly made the rounds to the remaining individuals-all save whoever was in front, of course. He did so very slowly over several hours, and only when he thought he wasn't being watched. He passed the word to rise and depart at 7:30 AM that morning, but not before. Ky didn't want to evacuate the cathedral slowly. It would only telegraph what was going to happen, and he wanted the Gears caught off guard. As a final note, they were told to get away as quickly as possible once up.

Before coming this far, Ky had observed the cathedral for two days. He noted that everyone, without exception, seemed to come and go with the daylight. That meant that the Gears themselves weren't prone to leaving early, which, so long as they didn't suspect anything, gave him some time. Every remaining undercover officer was now surrounding the cathedral, but those that weren't evacuating the area were already moving into armored wagons at greater distances. This would all have to happen perfectly. They would all need to move in at once and fully deploy within seconds. One misstep…one opening…and the Gears would seize it and two weeks would be for nothing.

Currently, he had the situation under control but Ky knew that could change in an instant. To be honest, what he had said to Sol the night before was the truth. He didn't think he had a chance alone against two of them…or even against the newer one. Even with a number of officers under his command and all following his orders to the letter, this was a far stretch at best. And he knew that this situation could change at any moment. Even not taking the Gears into account, it wouldn't take long for the people in town to know what was going on. That included the various individuals who wanted the bounty; many of whom were high-level magics and highly dangerous in their own right. And one of them, of course, was Sol himself.

 _Assuming he doesn't already know about this…_ He sighed mentally. _He's quite good at knowing when things like this are coming…_

Unfortunately, he couldn't worry too much about that right now. He could only hope that the units he requested were doing their job and were _able_ to do their job: to keep this area secure for twenty more minutes. He needed his own attention and that of every other decent officer focused on this. He couldn't afford anything else now…

* * *

With a rather cold, indifferent, and blasé attitude and expression on her face, the Russian waitress with her head tied back in a kerchief went over to the table where the two newest patrons were seated, carrying both burning-hot plates with her and not reacting at all to the obvious heat. Once there, she practically dumped both of them on the small table, actually making the two men recoil a bit as they were put down.

That done, she turned and went to head back to the kitchen without a word. Yet as she turned, she found herself looking through the window back into the kitchen interior, and saw a young woman cook with "circular" hair immediately mouth "be friendly" to her while she was hunched over a griddle.

Millia, in turn, stared back blankly for a moment, before letting out a sigh, and then turning her head slightly behind her toward the two men.

"There's your food."

In the kitchen, Jam facepalmed; but unfortunately did so with a hot spatual she had been cooking eggs with, and immediately let out a pained yelp.

"Um, excuse me… Miss?"

Millia had begun to turn away, but before she could go very far, she heard the voice of one of the customers again. Sighing, she turned and looked back to him, actually giving him a side profile at least.

"What is it now?" She asked dully.

Both men gave her an odd look at her rudeness, then looked a bit indignant. The one who spoke pointed at his plate. " _I_ ordered the omelette. _He_ ordered the special."

Millia paused. She looked to both plates, and saw that both orders were there; just given to the wrong people. A moment later, she looked up to them.

"…And?"

"You got our orders mixed up!" The man shot back.

"You _were_ born with two hands, were you not? Or does your mother still spoon-feed you like a helpless infant to this day that you cannot reach two feet in front of you and take a plate?"

That only infuriated them more. "You're the most terrible waitress I've ever seen in my life!"

"You're free to go somewhere else." The Russian simply responded, even as her manager snapped his head to her on hearing that, and Jam in the kitchen began to furiously shake her head no and make cutting motions with her hands.

"We can't go anywhere else! This is the only place in town!"

"Then either learn to cook or shut up. Your tone is getting annoying."

With that, she turned away and began to walk back for the kitchen again. The two patrons were left dumbstruck. The manager was beginning to turn red in the face. Jam herself was wincing. Millia herself was cold and indifferent to everything as she returned to the counter.

On arrival, the manager looked into the kitchen and glared at Jam. "You are _so_ lucky that we _are_ the only place in town, or right now I'd have you _and_ her fired for chasing off every last customer! The town is overloaded and we're the only place that actually has extra stock because _she_ keeps insulting everyone who comes in!"

Jam winced a bit and gave a sheepish grin. "She…uh…had a sheltered life…?"

"I may be desperate for help but I'm not _that_ desperate! That last stunt clinched it! I'm keeping my eyes open for a new waitress!" He snapped to Millia. "Unless you can do something to change my mind today!"

Millia paused as she began to move behind the main counter, and then turned to the man. An eyebrow was raised. "…Is that some sort of challenge? Are you asking me to attack you?"

"No he's not! No he's not!" Jam shouted from the kitchen, having already seen a few blond strands of hair beginning to poke out from underneath the kerchief. "Just…just go take the orders from that guy who just came in!" She said, frantically pointing to the end of the counter.

"Hey!" The manager retorted. " _I_ tell the employees what to do around here!" He snapped at Jam, making her recoil a bit again, before he looked to Millia. "Get that man's order right now! If we're going to have the rudest service in town, we'll at least have the _fastest_ too!"

"Very well, but please do not order me around." Millia calmly responded as she turned to walk to the man. The manager fumed yet again on hearing that, before turning to go apologize to the two patrons she had just insulted. Jam let out a bit of a whimper as she went back to her cooking. On the plus side, Millia was making sure she wasn't getting "swamped", but she was regretting more and more the fact that she had ever run into her and got stuck with this in the first place or, at minimum, asking her to come along to this job with her. Now in addition to not being able to look for the Gear as much as she wanted, she wasn't even able to make more money on the side.

Millia soon approached a man at the end of the counter in glasses and a dark traveling coat. He looked like many patrons usually did who came in here: the bounty hunter type. After all, Millia had driven off a number of the locals; they were the only ones left to come in. His hands were folded in front of him and he seemed eager to get a move on, as if he was a bit antsy in his seat. As the Russian neared him, she slowed momentarily. Her eyes looked him over silently, as if she thought she had seen something. However, it was only a moment before she finished approaching.

"What food do you want?" She asked as she went up to him, once again botching a simple delivery of: 'Hello, may I take your order'.

The man gave her a puzzled look at the nature of that response. However, he shook it off. "Um…nothing much. Whatever's already made, thank you. I want to get out of here in a hurry or I may not get the chance to leave town."

Millia nearly turned away to give the order, or lack thereof, to Jam, when she froze. Immediately, she turned back to him. "What do you mean?" She stated, almost sharply.

The man blinked, seemingly taken aback by her retort. "Oh…um…nothing much. It's just that there's a lot of police moving at the moment toward the cathedral in town. That checkpoint they have up north is going to be under staffed, so I figured I'd try and slip through. I need to resupply in Berlin and I figured this was my best chance to get through-"

The man cut himself off and blinked as Millia instantly turned away from him. In a flash, she was up to the kitchen window. She called out as soon as she was there. "We're leaving right now."

Jam looked up. "But…I just started on the sausage gravy…"

"Forget that. Now's my chance to get out of the country and be rid of you."

The young woman frowned. "You could sound a little _less_ disgusted to be rid of me considering the fact that I've kept you fed and a roof over your-YIPE!"

She was silenced with a scream as Millia suddenly reached through the window, over the hot burners, seized Jam by the collar of her dress, and yanked her over the burner and through the window, barely avoiding singing her or her dress. Once on the other side, she practically slammed her down on the ground before turning and beginning to move out. "Come on or I'll drag you kicking and screaming."

"But…but what about breakfast?" She shouted after her. "Can't we at least collect our pink slips?"

Millia didn't answer. She was already removing the kerchief from her head, and her blond hair was lengthening behind it. Soon, it lashed out behind her and, before Jam could do much, found it laced around her middle and beginning to yank her behind her like a leash. She cried out in alarm as she was dragged behind the Russian.

"Ack! Ok, I'm coming! I'm coming!" She shouted as she began to run behind to keep herself from being pulled to the floor. "Sorry boss! Just take those last three hours of work on the house!" She called behind her.

"What the…?!" The manager raised his head. "Where do you think you two are going? You're just walking out on the middle of breakfast?! Get back here or you're never working here again!"

"Fine by me." Millia dully answered as she reached the door and exited.

"She's just kidding! Seriously, we don't want to burn any briiiiii-dgeeeees!" Jam shouted a moment later as she vanished out the front as well. The manager ran after them, screaming all the way and fuming with rage. However, he only went to the entry way before confining his shouting to out the door toward them. The rest of the patrons were left either dully staring or confused about the whole mess, and all of them realizing breakfast was going to be much slower with one less cook and waitress.

As for the man at the counter, his confusion had vanished rather quickly. He looked at this entire exchange and, now that Millia and Jam were gone, was rather calm about the entire matter. He reached into his worn coat and pulled out a phone looking much more expensive than he was able to afford. He dialed a number and listened for a moment to the other end before there was a click.

"I'm ready to collect my thousand." Pause. "Yes, she fell for it hook, line, and sinker."

* * *

 _You're lucky I love you, Johnny…or else I'd kill you!_

May thought this with an audible whimper as she looked over the inn's restroom with a grimace. Far from being in her full outfit, she had removed some of her looser clothes as well as her gloves and hat and had them propped up against the wall nearby. Instead, she had a box of old cleaning supplies and was looking over her latest quarry…

Turns out the special talents that Johnny had sold her on weren't nearly as dirty as she thought they'd be, although that was a relative term. Instead, she was hired as a new maid for purely cleaning purposes. And, unfortunately, that meant cleaning the public areas. Most weren't too bad, but it also included the unisex restrooms. Much as she hated it and protested, it was the only way they could stay at the inn and be free to look around the town. And so she was stuck with it.

 _Stupid old world inn! Why can't they have private bathrooms like everyone else?_ She cursed mentally. Taking a deep breath, she went up to one of the stalls. She grimaced a little more, then reached over and opened it. A second later, her eyes widened before she gagged, and quickly she reached out with the tip of her boot to pull the chain to flush before slamming it again.

"Ugh! What is with idiots forgetting to do that?!" She audibly yelled. She wasn't looking forward to cleaning that one…

More reluctantly, she backed out of this and opened the next stall. She soon made an even greater look of disgust.

"Ew, ew, ew! Damnit, lift the lid, you moron! You're the ones who have the built-in hose! How come you can't aim better?" She sure wasn't looking forward to cleaning _that_ one either…

Knowing she was going to hate herself for this, especially since she could smell the stench coming from the last, she very reluctantly backed out and opened the last stall. On looking inside, her jaw nearly hit the floor. A moment later she flew into a rage.

"You…you little…! URGH! For the love of God, do you people need _diapers?!_ Why would you do that?! Just because it's a public restroom doesn't mean _'go wherever'!"_

At that moment, she began to hear a dripping sound. She turned and looked, and soon recoiled in horror again as she saw the first stall she flushed was now overflowing. And considering what had been in the can to begin with… She quickly recoiled to avoid the spreading water, but then fumed as she dropped her box on the ground.

"Ok…that _does it!_ I don't care if this _is_ Johnny who's asking me to do this! I'm tired of having to clean up after people who have no sense of hygiene or cleanliness! And since I'm a pirate… _I think I'm an expert on the subject of what's too gross!_ I'm just going to tell him it's over! And I'm going to finally give him a piece of my mind for making me spend two weeks in this smelly hovel scrubbing toilets day in and day out and…and…" She fumed, trying to think of something else to add.

Yet as she grit her teeth, turned red faced, and fumed to try and come up with something else, a voice suddenly came from the door.

"May? Are you alright?"

At once, the pirate went silent. Her face became as innocent as a lamb's as she turned to the front of the bathroom, and saw Johnny, dressed in the getup of an IPF officer, looking in on her. She didn't worry so much about the uniform, however, so much as the face.

"I heard you screaming. Is everything ok?"

May blinked, and felt warm inside. _He…heard me screaming…and came running…_ She thought, immediately causing her anger to evaporate. A moment later, she formed an almost starstruck look as a slight smile appeared on her face. "…Hmm? Oh…oh nothing. I, uh…er…"

"Are you doing ok in here?"

May blinked. "…In here? Oh, of course! Why wouldn't I be? I just…um…screamed because I remembered a really scary book…or something…"

Johnny looked a bit confused. "…Ok. Anyway, forget that crap. We're quitting right now. It's time."

"We are?" May immediately answered. She sighed in relief. "Thank God…" At once she reached up and began to untie her hair as she fled the bathroom as fast as she could, minding the spreading "caca water" coming from the first toilet. Not her problem anymore. In moments, she was outside, snatching up the rest of her effects and putting them on as fast as she could. Johnny himself was already off headed next door, into their room, which was little more than a large supply closet for while they had stayed there. She heard the sounds of him stripping the uniform and quickly putting on his traditional clothes. A moment later, as soon as she had her hat back on, she rushed over hoping to sneak a peek only to swear mentally when all she managed to see was him putting on his sunglasses. He got dressed way too fast for her tastes.

"So…what's with the pig duds?" She asked after a moment.

"Oh, the IPF may pride itself on having only those it can trust on this operation…" Johnny said with a grin as he snatched up his bokken and went out the room. "But never overestimate the loyalty of an underpaid man with kids to feed. Didn't take much to convince one of the basic shock troops that I was a fellow officer offering to take his shift. Oh, he was standoffish at first, but I went ahead and took two or three of them over the past couple days to assure him I was on the level, so he was ready to hand it over this time for a small fee. Now you said this Gear had blue hair and almost red eyes, right?"

May, hoisting her anchor over her shoulder and following him as he began to go for the exit, walking and talking at the same time. "Yeah?"

"I've spotted her. She's in the cathedral."

"Really? Well…that's great! So are we going to go get her?"

"You bet." Johnny answered with a smile as he reached the stairwell and headed down. "Just one minor difficulty…well…maybe more than one…"

"What?"

"We…look like the two of us will have to fight through about six countries worth of IPF personnel. Apparently they're throwing everything but the kitchen sink at this. I didn't notice at first because they've been even more hush-hush about this than normal…but they're filling up the area around the cathedral quick. And if that wasn't enough, April radioed me and said that three heavy cruisers…you know…the ones that are really nothing more than old aerial battleships with flags painted on them…they're inbound with even more troops and live weaponry. Naturally, there's no way the May Ship is going to be able to fight off three at once, so…we aren't going to get air support or an extraction on this one."

May, at this point, slowed in her step as Johnny led her out the front door of the inn. She began to look uneasy.

"So…it's just you and me against half of Europe's IPF, three heavy cruisers, and two Gears…" She nearly whined.

"No one ever said this was easy." Johnny answered, still smiling. "Don't worry, though. I already got us a way in."

The first mate turned to him. "Wait…you do?"

"You bet. Old cathedral like that? I figured it had some catacombs or something connecting somewhere…and I found just the spot. This barber shop about three hundred yards away, of all places, has a route to get in through an old underground passageway that must have gotten blocked up years ago. I scoped it out yesterday and it goes all the way in."

"Great! You're amazing, Johnny!" May cheered, before her face fell. "Wait…these, um, catacombs didn't happen to be converted into a…sewer…did they?"

Johnny's own smile ebbed a bit. He gave a shrug. "Well, you _have_ been cleaning bathrooms for two weeks, I figured you'd be-"

"Ugh! I thought I just got away from wallowing through sh-"

"May, keep it down!" The pirate captain cut off in a harsh whisper. "We're out in public! We let any hunters know about this and we'll have to beat them off too!"

The first mate continued to frown, but exhaled at last. "Alright…so once we do this, what's the plan to get out of town? The IPF sure isn't going to let us leave even if we get the bounty…"

"Eh, one thing at a time, May." Johnny waved off. "You need to learn to live in the moment."

A groan was the only answer that came from her.

* * *

"You see what I'm talking about?"

"Clearly." Sol answered from their current vantage point. Chipp once again nearly frowned at the fact that Sol so easily matched him. After finding him and taking him back to survey the area around the cathedral from one of his vantage points, he thought for sure he'd spend most of the time trying to get him up and into position; that he had least had the edge on him in terms of climbing and slinking about unseen on the few taller buildings. Unfortunately for Chipp, Sol was just as good as he was, mimicking everything he did. It made him feel a bit insulted considering how almost all normal people couldn't move around that fast, but he decided to go with it. After all, they had bigger problems now.

The area around the courtyard was rapidly filling up. Before, one could have assumed it was just a random occurrence of a large group of people. But now the "true colors" were starting to come out. More and more uniforms were showing up and beginning to escort people out of there. They were spreading pretty far too, yet more civilians somehow seemed to be gathering about the cathedral. That obviously meant that some of these civilians weren't quite "civilians" at all. They were planning an operation…and a big one. It seemed Chipp's discovery had come just a little too late.

"And this is just the beginning." Chipp went on. "They're clearing out wider spots on the outskirts there…and two more over on the north and west." He pointed out to the courtyard as he spoke. "You know what that means. They're planning on landing airships." He sighed. "Sheesh, after two weeks, they _still_ aren't bringing in more officers until the last minute?"

"These won't be officers." Sol responded calmly. "Those will be battleships."

The ninja looked to Sol a bit more intently. "…Come again? The IPF isn't exactly any army. What would they be doing with battleships?"

"This isn't the IPF. We are in Germany, after all." The man responded. "They no doubt want to send in their own form of backup."

Chipp was a bit unnerved on hearing that. "You mean to tell me they're going to fire off battleships in a town like this? Even if they're evacuating the immediate area, even if they're lucky not to blow up a hundred easy with a misfire, this whole area is going to be leveled. What kind of guy is that captain that he'd not only risk the people and this town but his own men?"

"Whoever said Captain Kiske was the one bringing them in?"

Chipp was silent, even as Sol closed his eyes and smiled a bit.

"Once again, you are about to learn the price of being such a good 'boy scout', Ky… You couldn't just simply look your superiors in the eye and lie, could you?"

The ninja grimaced a bit. "What are you-"

Sol's eyes opened, cutting him off. "Ky told me himself he's doubting he can stop this new Gear, and I know he was telling the truth, especially after sensing its power directly. Especially not if Testament is with it. He must have reported it to his superiors as well…that for all of his planning, experience, and hand-picked manpower he doesn't believe today will go smoothly. Well, his superiors, and the world for that matter, aren't going to take that as an answer. They want this Gear dead even if they have to level Adalwolf to do it."

His smile faded here.

"…Fools."

"I don't like the way you said that…But come on. If they actually start firing off magical artillery here, assuming it doesn't wipe us off the face of the Earth along with everyone else here, there's no way that thing can survive."

"You know nothing about Gears, even after all this time. But even if you did, you know nothing about this Gear. She's above and beyond what even most Crusader veterans realize. If they fire on her this time, they'll cause pain and damage. More than what her abusers did. Even assuming she doesn't finally fly into a rage, she'll be forced to defend herself. And when she does that she will kill every last one of these men who get in her way."

The ninja held for a short while, staring at Sol.

"…You're really serious, aren't you? She really _can_ kill them all, can't she?"

"All that and then some." Sol answered as he began to rise.

Chipp wasn't feeling too comfortable by now; a lump forming in his stomach as he rose. "Well, if that's true, why the hell are we even bothering? We can't possibly stop her-"

"Don't forget what I told you. We're not here to save _her_ from _them_. The only chance is to get into that cathedral and talk to her while we still have time. This operation could begin at any minute, but I have enough military experience to know we don't have any more than twenty minutes left."

"Get into the cathedral…" Chipp echoed drolly. "Terrific. You make that sound so easy. Even I can't slide into and out of shadows when there aren't any shadows to slide in and out of. That's just a blank courtyard surrounded by people. How do we get in?"

"I suggest walking up to it and opening the front door." Sol calmly answered as he turned to make for the way down.

The young man gave him an awkward look. "Huh? Is that a joke?"

"There's little that Ky or the IPF can do to stop us. If they attempt to, Ky knows I'll fight back. It will create a commotion that the Gears will see, and then the entire trap will be ruined."

Chipp paused, letting Sol actually gain some distance. That was actually a good point. Counter-intuitive, to be sure, but no less accurate.

"Even so, you don't think they're just going to sit around and let us walk in, do you?"

"No, but provided that we handle this properly and get in quickly, they will need some time to figure out what to do from there. They can't even risk shooting us. The sound of a gunshot will attract every bounty hunter in this town, after all. You're right, however, in that we aren't going to be able to just do as we like once we get inside. That's where you come in."

The man frowned, crossing his arms. "Wonderful. What mediocre task do I have to do _this_ time? Pop cop tires? Create a diversion?" He snorted. "Stand guard?"

Sol reached the edge and began to leap down to the next level.

"Fight Testament." He stated.

The annoyed look that Chipp had begun to form evaporated. His eyes widened instead, and his arms almost uncrossed. Even standing there, he began to feel the memory of the pain of that blow back in England…

"Are you serious?"

"You wanted to prove your skill, didn't you?" Sol asked as he walked back for the next drop down. "Now's your chance. It will be up to you to hold him off by yourself. I need you to capture his full attention so I can at least have a few minutes to talk with the other Gear alone."

Chipp continued to stand dumbfounded as Sol went down another level. Finally, he broke and began to go after him, but only so he wouldn't be left behind.

"Are you completely out of your mind? You expect _me_ to hold that thing off all by myself?"

"No, I expect him to kill you." The bounty hunter calmly answered. "But you're the one who thought you somehow had a chance against the new Gear alone, and that was _after_ you were defeated by Testament back in England. So I'm hoping you can prove me wrong." Pause. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you upset before that you weren't able to take more of an active combat role? Well…here you go."

"…You son of a bitch." Chipp answered as he leapt down after him. Sol, on his part, soon touched the ground. "This is kind of a big difference…"

"Did you only expect to see combat if I was there to babysit you?" The bounty hunter answered as he began to walk down the road, his voice growing a bit sharper. "Because that is not what _I_ expected. I intended to make good use of you. If you can't do this, then you're worthless to me and you better go 'run and hide' before the warships get here because one way or another this town is more than likely to be fire and ash before long. I might be the only chance at stopping it right now and I can't do it alone. There's no way I'll be able to negotiate with that Gear if I have Testament there trying to kill me or, worse yet, poisoning her against everything I try to say. If you were serious about half of the things you've tried to tell me, or even if you don't want these officers and a great number of civilians to die, which they _will_ in less than a half hour, then you'll stop complaining and simply tell me: 'I'll hold off Testament as long as I can.'"

Chipp nearly bristled. This was an insult to him. True, he hated having his skill mocked and he still believed he could become good enough to do some things even Sol couldn't do. He wanted to believe that he could best him on at least some level. But this…this was forcing him to choose between pride and possibly his life. True, Testament had struck him only once back in England and he was already mostly "broken" from Sol's blow, but he knew enough to know that this thing meant business. He might have been able to appear to go in and out of the shadows, but Testament could actually cut a hole in reality and pop out somewhere else. That was beyond the league of any ninja.

Still, when he tried to think of what his mentor would have done, there was no contest. Sol was right; there were a lot of innocent people around here. And if that Gear _did_ end up waging mass destruction it would be over for her as well. No human in the world would ever give her a chance again…

He finally sighed.

"Well, I _do_ want a challenge…so ok. Not like we have a choice, I suppose…"

"Then hurry. We need to move in now and we don't have much time left to strategize."

* * *

A buzzing sound went out from the outer cell door. A moment later, it opened up, and a younger IPF officer with another officer for escort, both armed with guns in their holsters that were secured, walked inside. One was bearing a tray with basic "cafeteria food". The other had nothing, instead looking forward to keep an eye on the inmate.

By now, the IPF had commandeered the local jail as it was a more secure location than the mobile prisons. There wasn't too much to use; three normal cells and this one solitary cell, but all had thick concrete walls and iron bars. While the mobile prisons were made of steel and had magic reinforcement, the very fact that they had to be mobile and magical gave them inherit flaws that made them less than secure. Iron cells, on the other hand, always negated magic at least partially, making them great for any type of prisoner in spite of being old.

In spite of the buzzing, the sole inmate in the cell never moved or reacted, and she hadn't since she had been put in there, seemingly. She hadn't changed her one-sleeved kimono since her arrival and had never taken it off, but she seemed so calm that she never sweat, and never left any stains to begin with given her reduced activity. She _did_ eat at some point, obviously, because while she would never move while they were in there, she would leave the trays empty when they came back for them. However, they always only saw her seated on her cot, looking at them with that one eye as if she wasn't even seeing them.

Neither of the officers were too happy about this woman…not knowing how many officers were still in critical condition because of her. It was tempting to just pull out their guns and be done with her right here and now. They had considered getting numerous officers together and going in the cell alone with her, but that idea was dismissed. Somehow the woman had taken on over a score of them without a scratch on her. No…better to just snuff her from a safe distance.

At any rate, they weren't there for that. Once inside and the door securely shut behind them, the one who lacked the tray moved into position and undid the holster on her hip, although she didn't go for the weapon yet. The one with the tray held for a moment.

"You're already on your cot." He remarked. "Good. Stay there. Seems you at least know the drill."

The pink-haired woman said nothing in response. However, today was different, and the two realized it almost immediately. Her eyes weren't on them this time. Rather, they were up on the wall, on a small aperture covered with bars that let in the outside. At the moment, it was also letting in a lot of rainwater and cold air, not to mention the periodic sound of a thunder rumble. Her eyes remained on that. The two hesitated, for this was new. Yet in the end, they paid it little mind. They wanted to get in and get out.

The male officer came forward, bent down to the slot, and pushed the food tray inside.

"Eat up. We're moving out in a couple hours."

No response from the woman.

The officer stared a bit longer, but then snorted. It was no skin of his nose if she didn't want to talk. Besides, he preferred it that way. He began to get up, and the other officer started to fasten her holster again.

"…Why are you here?"

The man paused just as he finished standing, looking up. That was the first time he had ever heard the woman talk before. To be honest, how even and slow her voice was seemed a bit unsettling. How calm she spoke and how smooth. He stared at her a moment.

"What are you talking about?"

"You two bring me evening meals. Why are you here now? Where are the guards for the morning?"

The officer frowned. "That's really none of your business, now is it? They got reassigned."

"Reassigned where?"

"Like I said. It's none of your business. Now shut up and eat."

Without another word, the officer turned and began to walk out. His partner finished fastening her gun and turned to go as well.

They heard a shift of mattress springs behind them…the only sound other than a voice.

"Open the cell and let me out. Right now."

The two officers paused. They both turned and looked to the cell. A bit to their surprise, without a noise, the pink-haired woman had not only arisen from the cot but was now standing adjacent to the bars, staring at them with that one eye. It seemed to be more piercing than normal. Before, it had blankly stared forward. Now it seemed to be focused on them…like a hawk sizing up prey.

It actually took the officer a moment to snap out of it. "…Excuse me?"

"If you do not open this cell right now," The woman calmly responded, her mouth barely opening. "I will rip a hole through your body where you stand. And then I will get out anyway. Open the cell. I won't ask again."

The man scoffed. "Just don't cause any more trouble, you one-eyed bitch." He answered before he turned away and went for the door again. "We've got enough problems with-GAH!"

His voice was cut off…as was his scream…a moment later when three razor-sharp metal talons ripped clean through his torso and erupted out of his chest on the opposite side. His fellow officer was so shocked that even when blood from her partner splattered on her face, she couldn't comprehend what had happened and just gasped. She looked out, and her eyes, and mind, were barely able to recognize a shocking sight.

The pink-haired woman had snapped her stump out…and, at once, a metal "dragon claw" with three long, hooked, metal talons had emerged from it on a steel chain like a crack of a whip, and had embedded so hard into the man's right shoulder-blade area it ripped through his scapula and clean through a lung on the other side.

She moved fast, snapping her arm back with such force that, in spite of her lithe frame, the bigger man was ripped off of his feet and yanked back like a fish on a hook, slamming him into the bars. He stayed there for only a fraction of a second before the blood coming out of his chest, the trauma from being slammed against it, and the lack of air began to make him black out. But before he could, the woman calmly reached through the bars, grabbed some dangling keys from his belt band, and, in spite of them being clasped by a metal ring, gave a sharp twist that broke them off all together. That done, she put a foot through the bars on his falling body and pushed, yanking her metal claw out of his body. Still dripping with blood, it seemed to retract into her sleeve of her kimono, wringing itself free as it did so.

The one-eyed woman next calmly went to the door of the cell, intending to open it. As she did, the other officer finally reacted. She went for her gun and undid the holster. By the time it was free, the one-eyed woman was at the cell and inserting one of the keys into the lock, seeming to somehow know the right one the first time. The gun was raised but, without looking up, the pink-haired woman aimed her "stump" at her again, and a knife erupted from underneath it. A second later, and the gun clattered to the ground as the officer's hand was nailed to the concrete wall of the cell block; the knife sticking it there and blood fountaining out. The officer shouted in pain and grabbed for it to yank it free, but embedded in stone it was impossible. Instead, she tried to go get the gun that had clattered to the floor, but being anchored where she was that too was impossible.

A moment later, the cell was unlocked and the woman inside calmly pulled it open. Her one eye focused on the conscious officer and began to walk to her. The officer looked up, eyes now filling with panic. She struggled against the knife, but to no avail. Finally, forgetting her hand, she went for her waist and seized her baton instead. In a moment it was out, and she raised to hit the incoming woman…

Her hand went out first, and seized the officer's; not by the wrist but by the palm. Immediately, her fingers, like small bits of iron, worked their way in. In spite of the tightest grip the officer could muster, she couldn't stop the inmate from moving her fingers underneath hers, starting with her forefinger. Once there, she slowly moved her own thumb and forefinger around it, grasped hard, and then twisted back the wrong way. The officer's eyes widened and she tried to oppose it, but she hadn't the strength. The finger bent back further and further until a snap went out.

Crying out again, the grip loosened on the baton. Immediately, the pink-haired woman moved to the next finger and did the same, and continued until all four fingers were broken. By then, the baton had already clattered to the ground and the officer was in agony. That done, having not batted an eye or even strained the whole time, the inmate reached over, seized the handle of the knife, and yanked it out, letting the blood-soaked limb fall down.

"Take me to my sword. Right now."

* * *

Ky watched the grounds carefully, seeing the last man of theirs moving out to a safe distance. By now, all of the officers were in position around the cathedral, filling the buildings, the alleys, and pressed against the street sides as well. The rain was still pouring, but that would hopefully work out by decreasing visibility and providing noise cover. He let out a long exhale, the coldness of the morning causing it to become white mist. It was time at last. Everyone was in position, the associated officers were moving the last few people out of the perimeter…they weren't going to see a better chance. And in spite of his fear of their chances of success, he knew this was the only hope of getting this Gear stopped without civilian casualties.

 _I really needed your help, Sol…but so be it. God be with us on this day…for the sake of both sides._

He moved his hand to his headpiece radio, which he had opted for over a traditional one, and pressed a button on it intending to give the order. "All-"

 _"_ _Sir,"_ A voice from the radio called out, cutting him off; likely before the person talking realized he was about to give an order. _"We've cleared the designate three landing areas and the ETA is twelve minutes."_

Immediately, Ky's mouth shut. He blinked.

"…Who is this?"

 _"_ _Um, command relay, sir. Just letting you know Wyverns A, B, and C are inbound and are headed straight for your position."_

The captain hesitated a moment. Wyverns? He thought about the designations, trying to clear up what those were supposed to mean. It took him a few moments, but then his memory clicked and his eyes widened.

Those were the designations for the airborne battleships in Berlin.

He got on the radio again. "Command relay, what are you talking about? I didn't order those ships in on this operation."

 _"_ _The order came from Inspector Ramm, captain. Just this morning."_

Ky was stunned. "Inspector Stein has jurisdiction here-"

 _"_ _His command was revoked and given to Inspector Ramm right before the order was given, sir."_

The captain, despite normally being reserved and controlled, was almost livid. His passion was surging. "This was supposed to be a discrete operation! This is the middle of a populated area! Even with the evacuation we can't possibly guarantee the safety of the citizens! There's over 200 officers on the ground right here alone! Connect me to the inspector!"

 _"_ _Inspector Ramm is not in the office at the moment, sir."_

"Then connect me to whoever has command of those airships!"

 _"_ _I can, sir, but they are not authorized to follow your discretion for this mission…only the inspector's. The only thing they requested from you was clearance for when it would be safe to open fire on the cathedral."_

Ky's fury was unmistakable. "Then tell them, as far as I'm concerned, never."

"Sir!"

The sudden call from the nearby officer distracted Ky from his latest thoughts, although now he was rather incensed. The whole goal of this operation had been to minimize human casualties and disable the Gear as fast as possible. What sort of fool wanted to send in warships to simply fire at it? If destroying Gears was as easy as that, the Crusades would have never taken place. The only thing that would end up dying would be any humans on the ground including him and his men. He prayed to God that none of the commanders of those airships were foolish enough to fire anyway… At any rate, he turned to the officer.

"What is it?"

"Look!" The man pointed.

Ky looked up in response, and soon saw what everyone else had already seen a while ago. A lone man in a black shirt and white pants with a blade mounted to one of his wrists was walking through the rain straight for the doors of the cathedral.

The former Sacred Order member's jaw loosened as he stared. "How on Heaven or Earth did that man manage to get through the roadblocks? I thought we had evacuated this area!"

"We did, sir! We did!" The officer insisted. "Hours ago! We've been spreading out from the cathedral!"

"Then how is he there?"

"I…I don't know, sir!"

"Why didn't anyone stop him when he approached?"

"I don't know that either! He looked…like he just stepped out of a shadow! What are your orders?"

Even as he asked this, Ky noticed one of the other officers nearby begin to go for one of the bullhorns. However, before he could, the captain quickly shot out a hand and clasped it on it, keeping him from making the call. He grit his teeth as he stared at the man near the front steps. Whoever this person was, he was a clever one. He knew full well that there was no way they could bust him if he made it this far; not without alerting the Gears inside. They couldn't even order him to back off with the bullhorn without making it obvious. And he had picked just the perfect moment as well.

 _No normal bounty hunter knew enough about this to plan so well…_ Ky thought. _The only one I could think of would be…_

 _…_ _No._

Ky snapped his head to the sky. He had seen something like this before…knew his style. While everyone was focusing on this one individual walking into the cathedral who had popped out of nowhere, no one's eyes would be skyward toward the top of the building. As fast as he could, the captain looked to one of the flying buttresses suspending the sides…

…and was just in time to see a flash of red fabric fly out from the sky nearby, perhaps via an impossible leap from a nearby building, and vanish behind it.

There was no doubt in his mind who it was. Unfortunately, that didn't help the situation. What rage had subsided toward Sol before now reenkindled. Not only did he not help him, but he must have used the distraction yesterday to sneak in this man in black and white, and now had him spring out to provide another diversion.

Now what could he do?

* * *

Chipp had to hand it to Sol. He really called this one, a bit to his surprise. Slipping past some of the less experienced IPF officers hadn't been a challenge, but to be able to just stroll right up to the cathedral right in front of their faces? He was used to doing such a thing in the shadows, but never out in broad daylight. Well…perhaps broad daylight was too strong of a word given how cold, dark, and rainy it was, but one could get the idea. Of course, now came the hard part; the part he honestly wouldn't have preferred twice as many police officers to.

Swallowing, he pushed on the front of the cathedral doors. Being old and heavy, it took a bit of effort to get it open, but in the end he succeeded and walked inside.

Chipp had never been in a cathedral before, so he was a bit surprised to see it have another entrance just inside. It was so large and ornate that he actually mistakenly thought he had entered the cathedral proper, not realizing that this was just the outer vestibule. Looking ahead a bit more, he realized that it terminated in a wall with another set of doors. It was a bit hard to see, after all. There was no lighting in the front part of the cathedral. Only a few apertures allowed natural light to stream in, and as a result the interior was gloomy and gray as well as dimly lit. At any rate, the outer vestibule had no one present. Just a few statues to saints with a place for votive offerings. All of the candles were fresh, with none of them having even been lit yet. No sign of anyone else.

Taking in a deep breath, Chipp began to walk inside. Even in just the outer cathedral, he didn't like how his feet clicked with each and every step enough to actually have a small echo. At any rate, he kept his eyes and ears open. Testament seemed to be even better at getting the drop on someone than he was, and that meant he had to be extra careful. After their last encounter, he knew only one hit was necessary from this guy to drop him.

It seemed luck was on his side this time, however. Suddenly, the door in front of him cracked. He froze and watched it open. Once that happened, he struggled not to literally shake in his boots as he saw a face he knew all-too-well step out from the other side. He could have thought it was a bit awkward that the man still seemed to be wearing the same clothes as he always did, but considering the fact that Chipp did the same…

The red eyes almost seemed to glow in the dark as he shut the door behind him, his frown tightening.

"Out of all the humans who would have been the first to find that she was hiding here…I'll admit I honestly didn't expect you to be among them. After all, I assumed that you might be a bit smarter after England. But I suppose intelligence is too much to expect from one of your kind. Tell me, are you working with those officers outside? They managed to pull the wool over my eyes on this one. I didn't realize what was happening until about ten minutes ago. But that won't stop me from killing you all if I have to." A pause. "Now that you realize I'm the one who's here, why not run back off to the rest of your murderous brethren?"

Chipp, in spite of his growing anxiety and the none-too-settling fact that he could feel the power radiating off of this individual, stayed bold and made his hands into fists.

"Sorry, but I don't like backing down from threats. I'm not scared of you. Seeing you here only gives me a chance to bury this blade in your neck."

Testament snorted. "Then what is all of that fear doing in your eyes? You didn't come here just to pick a fight with me."

The ninja hesitated only a moment before speaking again. "Ok, you got me. I want the other Gear…the one worth the bounty. But if I have to get through you to get to her, so be it."

"You know _nothing_." The white-skinned man spat. "If you're quaking this much from encountering me, you're nothing but a gnat to _her_. And you thought you could make a cheap profit off of all of this? You're an even bigger fool than you were in England."

Chipp forced himself to stay looking firm. "Are you going to talk to me all day or try and stop me?"

The Gear's red eyes narrowed. " _Don't_ flatter yourself. The only reason you aren't already a bloody corpse is because you're honestly not even worth my time."

"Only because you have me out in the open." The ninja answered. "Only because we're looking at each other. You know…I'm not so bad at moving around in the shadows myself. And I noticed that last time it was only after I had been smacked down that you made your move. I'm thinking even your senses aren't much better than those of humans. And I've had the luxury of seeing you in action now. I don't think this is going to be half as easy as last time for you."

 _At least…I hope…_ He thought with a bit of a mental swallow.

Testament stared at him for a long time, silent, unblinking.

"…What are you trying to pull?"

Chipp's own narrow look opened up a bit. "What?"

"Don't 'what' me. You wander into this cathedral in the midst of hundreds of police officers, and now you're trying to call me out. What are you plotting?"

The ninja managed to conceal his tension, although he already felt moisture gathering on his brow. He had hoped he could have distracted him a _bit_ longer. But he was already smelling a rat. However, he knew there was no point in confessing now. So he held onto it.

"I'm not planning anything. Like I said, I'm just here for the money…and now you."

"You're lying." Testament flatly answered. His arms began to uncross. "Tell me or I'll make you live to regret it. Before, I could strike you down with one blow. If you thought your imprisonment was bad before, I'll show you true suffering this time without being 'merciful' enough to make your unconscious at first."

Chipp didn't like the sound of that…but also picked up on it. His look turned hard again.

"Well then, looks like you're stuck fighting me either way you look at it. Either I get my revenge or you get what you want to know."

The Gear was caught by this, and it showed. However, it only caused his own hands to make fists as his eyes seemed to blaze a bit more.

"Have it your way." He finally stated, beginning to raise his hand to summon his scythe, no doubt.

"Whoa, hold on a moment." The ninja stated, putting a hand up. "Do you really want to fight me here? This close to the front?" He gestured behind him. "Like you said, there's hundreds of cops out there. The odds of one of us breaking through the door and alerting them all is pretty high. You don't want to expose the other Gear…and I don't want to lose my money."

Testament paused. "I'm not about to destroy you inside. For some reason, such things upset her, and I avoid it when I can."

"Alright then." He answered, pointing to the east. "There's a side chapel to the main cathedral over there. No pews. It should be a good battleground, don't you think?"

The Gear hesitated momentarily. For a second, Chipp thought he had been found out. That he would realize the reason he was taking him into a side chamber was to lure him away from the other one. All he could do was stand there and maintain his position. Truth be told, he wanted the chapel because it was dark and filled with shadows, providing far more room to move and a "playground" for a ninja like himself. It might give him at least a ghost of a chance. But if he didn't go for it…

Fortunately, it seemed luck was on his side.

"…As you wish. If you think it will give you more than a few seconds of life… _less_ than that if you're trying to trick me."

Again, the ninja maintained his poker face to keep from reacting to this. Drawing himself up, he simply gestured ahead a bit.

"Lead the way."

* * *

By this point, Jam had already seen the roads in Adalwolf go from muddy to packed to cobblestone and some pavement to back to packed to finally back to muddy. They were still in the part of town where the buildings could be two or even three stories, but she could already see just up the street ahead that they were going back down to level one houses. She gave a bit of a shiver as she ran along behind Millia, frowning at how her extended sleeves were completely soaked. She didn't even give her a chance to get the umbrella she had bought that morning before going out into the gray, gloomy morning…

However, the chef tried not to let that distract her that much. Soon, Millia would be on to Berlin, and she could hang behind and resume pursuing the Gear. Of course, after what had just happened, she doubted she could get that job in Adalwolf back. But she'd just have to make do. If she could get the Gear, after all, that would be worth a lot more money.

There were a few people out that morning, in spite of the rain, but they kept to the awnings. If Millia and Jam had been a bit more alert, they would have noticed they were talking to each other and looking confused. The subject at hand was how the cathedral's church services had been cancelled for the morning, and the people were wondering why. But that was of no concern to Millia as she dashed along. She only wanted to go down the main road as much as possible before she had to break off and start inching her way to the checkpoint. It would no doubt require a lot of sneaking around to get through as opposed to just busting through, but the reduced guard could return at any moment, and she couldn't afford to let the opportunity slip by.

"Could we move just a bit slower?" Jam called after a while. "I'm splattering mud all over me… This is the only outfit like this I own…"

"Stop complaining and keep moving." The Russian answered. "I'm not sure how much time we have."

"Alright, alright…" The chef griped as she looked up. At least they were nearly to the end of the inner city. There was a crossing just ahead that was the last of the tall structures, one being what looked like a local hospital at three floors, and, across from it, a two story shop building with a secondary house on top, mostly in the form of a wooden shack that could be used for anything from storage to a smokehouse. Beyond that everything flattened out. Jam, if she looked carefully, could even see the beginning of the roof of one of the IPF vehicles ahead.

"Turn left up here." Millia said as she rushed along. "We'll come in from the west."

"Well, I hope this experience has been…informative to you." Jam went on, making a bit of small talk. "I mean…I hope you at least learned a _little_ more tact… And, in case I don't get to say so later, good luck with the whole, um…running from assassins thing." Pause. "I suppose I should also thank you for helping me back in the forest, but seeing as I helped you too and I wouldn't have been in trouble if you hadn't come out of nowhere and attacked me, then I'd say it's you who should be..."

The young woman trailed off. Suddenly, Millia came to a halt, just as she was about to reach the junction and was beginning to head over to one side. She stood still once there, not moving a muscle.

Jam was forced to stop as well as a result, and looked to her curiously. "What's wrong?"

The only response was a quiet curse in Russian. "I'm such a fool…" She murmured.

The cook looked puzzled. "I don't-"

Her voice turned into a cry of alarm a moment later when Millia's hair suddenly lengthened and whipped out, and she tried to dive for the side. But the moment she did, she heard a muted noise followed by a hot pain across one of her legs that burned like wildfire. Yet she didn't have a chance to scream or react to that when, a moment later, she saw an eruption of blood come out of Millia and slap against her own face. The mixture of sudden attacks stunned her so much she didn't know how to respond, save to yell.

The cry, naturally, alerted the other people on the street, who turned and looked and saw blood running freely out of Jam's leg while what looked like a South American dart was lodged in Millia's arm, causing blood to run everywhere. On seeing this, more screams soon joined. The people realized someone had shot at them, and burst into panic in spite of the quietness. As for Millia, she clenched her teeth but still let out a pained noise and actually nearly faltered. So accurate was the hit. Yet in spite of that, she quickly spun her hair in front of her and began to stagger to one side. The hair quickly interweaved and thickened, and, a moment later, a bullet smashed into it as if it was a sheet of Kevlar, instantly denting and falling to the ground. A shaft did the same a moment later. As for Millia, she ran as fast as she could to one side, which wasn't that fast as it caused the shaft lodged in her upper arm to shift and twist. Jam, her own pain reaching her brain, soon cried out as well and ran after her.

Two more shots went out, causing an eruption of mud from a bullet and a shaft smacking into the ground about them. People scattered everywhere, going for cover too. Millia, however, suddenly began to stumble, tripping over one of her legs and almost going down. Jam turned to that, and saw that her hair was also beginning to "unweave". She was weakening.

Instantly, she rushed to the Russian woman's side and put an arm around her, just before she stumbled again, and began to drag her onward. People continued to rush around them, although the street was clearing rapidly. Yet as she went along, Millia's head nodded, filling the chef with more concern.

"Millia!"

The woman answered with a low mutter.

"The person coming from the left… Kill him…"

Jam blinked at that. She looked around. People were running everywhere, but she saw one of the bystanders screaming hysterically was running right at them from the left, not seeming to see where he was going.

"I…I don't…"

 _"_ _Now!"_ The Russian snapped with sudden strength and violence.

Jam let out a cry of alarm and nearly dropped her. However, the shout was so strong and so wild that she acted out of instinct. As the man rushed for them, she suddenly lashed out with one of her feet and slapped him across the side of the head with a roundhouse kick. His face and jaw snapped one way, and the impact sent him flying back and to the mud, instantly unconscious.

When he landed, a pair of short knives that had been concealed in the wrists of his jacket fell out and splatted into the mud as well.

The chef was shocked, but didn't dwell on that when she noted the snipers fired at them again, and Millia barely had the strength to block it this time. Quickly, she seized her with both hands and dragged her out of the street and onto a step nearby in front of what looked like a barber shop. A moment later, she drug her in all together toward the door and, with another swift kick of her "good" leg, knocked it open. It was apparently closed on Sunday, it seemed, leaving the two to freely go inside.

She only brought Millia inside the door, as the windows were curtained and there was only sufficient light to see in from one side. Another bullet and another spear shaft impacted around the frame, but easily missed them both. Millia's own hair relaxed, first slumping down into a mat, but eventually beginning to slowly recoil. Once here, Jam propped her up and then quickly sat down as well. The pain was intense coming from her leg, but the first bullet hadn't targeted her and ended up only grazing her. She could still function…if she could keep moving, that was.

She took the moment to look around, and finally found what she hoped was a clean barber towel. Seizing it, she began to tie it around her own wound as she looked to Millia.

"Are you alright?"

The Russian's eyes were closed, but she was still conscious and grunted. "Considering the fact I have a poisoned dart in my arm? No."

The chef's eyes turned as wide as saucers. "P…Poisoned?! Oh god! Are you going to-"

"Relax." She sighed. "I wouldn't be a good former member of the Assassin's Syndicate if I hadn't built up immunity to a lot of poisons…although this one's going to make me sleepy, weak, and sluggish for several hours yet… Especially since it landed in my brachial artery…"

"Oh…" Jam began to sigh in relief, before she grew twice as shocked. "What?! Oh no! Here!" She began to reach for the shaft. "Let me pull it-"

 _"_ _Don't touch it!"_

Immediately, Jam recoiled as if from a hot stove. As for the Russian, she exhaled, clearly having used a lot of strength with that, but then spoke again. "Little fool…did you not hear what I said? It's in my artery. You can see it moving up and down. Pull it out and I'll bleed to death in less than two minutes…"

The young woman trembled a bit on hearing that. She looked to the shaft, and saw that it was indeed beating up and down.

"Oh man… We have to get you to a doctor."

Millia sighed. "And how exactly can we do that? Or find one that won't turn me in?"

"You've got no choice! You'll die unless someone takes that out!"

"Forget about a doctor…" Millia groaned, clenching her teeth. "This will be hard…but I'll just have to do some field medicine… Time to see if I can remember Lauper's lessons… Good thing…you dragged me into a barber… I can get razor blades… But forget about that. You have bigger concerns…"

Jam was rather tensely looking at Millia at this point, but she blinked on hearing this. "Huh? Why?"

"Take a look outside…"

The chef only paused a moment, but then risked leaning closer to one of the windows. Definitely one that had curtains, and was thin enough that even in the gray light outside she could look out. She looked around a bit for a moment, and then realized what she was talking about.

The civilians were gone now…at least, the real civilians. A few were still there, and were now getting out concealed weapons like the one she had knocked out. Not only that, but other people were coming out from the alleys and buildings around the crossing. Most of them carried rather intimidating-looking weapons and weren't too wholesome looking themselves. They reminded Jam of the group from the Schwarzwald. Only unlike them, there were ten or twelve of them this time. Finally, she managed to look up to the two three-story buildings. She couldn't make out much, but she thought she could see a glimpse of the two snipers, one with a gun and the other with some sort of primitive dart thrower.

She leaned back in a moment later, the color having drained from her face.

"I…think your friends are here…"

"Naturally…" She sighed as she slowly began to form her hair again, panting all the while. "How many?"

"Counting the guys on the rooftops? Twelve or fourteen…"

"Alright." She answered as she slowly formed tendrils. "You'll have to keep them busy for ten minutes by yourself."

"Wh…what?!" The cook exclaimed, whirling on her. "They have weapons! They're trained killers! I'm good at self defense but not _that_ good!"

"Time to get over a fear of killing…" She exhaled as she reached a tendril out for the nearest bar stool. After a moment, she managed to grasp a razor. Another tendril went out and seized some disinfectant for combs. "Because they will kill you as well."

Jam began to quiver as her arms fell, letting out a whine. "I couldn't even beat _you_ one-on-one! I don't have a chance against fourteen of them!"

The Russian let out a slow sigh. "…My vision is starting to dim, so I only have time to explain this once. Therefore, listen closely. First, they aren't as good as me. Second, if they're following behavior of the Assassin's Syndicate, then here is what you must do…"

* * *

In spite of the growing tension outside, the cathedral interior was rather peaceful. Even the fact that Chipp and Testament had moved off to the side chapel didn't cause any noise to intrude. All that Sol could hear was the gently pouring rain as he finished climbing down from the belfry and descended the stairs in the back. The place was very old and hollowed. The inner ornamentation, filled with images from Christianity of God and men interacting and various scenes from the Bible, fit well with the coloration, as did the statues of various saints. Yet it was the stone archways stretching hundreds of feet high and towering over him that truly gave the sensation that the structure had been designed to emulate from its inception: giving mere mortals a glimpse of the glory of God. It did indeed seem to be a gray corner of Heaven that he walked into.

There were pews set out, and some of them were askew, having been abandoned by numerous transients and hunters hours ago who had little need or respect for the building. Only a few candles hadn't burned out, just enough to give a pale glow to the lower portion of the chamber. Yet it was quiet and still, leading all the way through the stone halls up to the apse, which loomed large and glorious. A large statue of Christ the King stood tall and glorious, surveying anyone who happened to come before the apse or minister within it. There was an altar here with candle stands, but they were all dim and there was no attending priest or Eucharist at this time. Just silence, and the light from the windows illuminating the statue as it looked over the front.

There was only one other individual in the silent sanctuary.

Sol had received only the slightest glimpse of her before, and had been focused on the human with her and therefore had missed some of her. Now, however, he got a clear look. He saw her blue hair tied back with a pair of yellow ribbons, and her long, concealing black and white dress covering her completely save for her feet…and perhaps a tip of another yellow ribbon hanging out from beneath her garment. She almost seemed like a nun in a habit, and would have if not for her head being exposed. At any rate, she was kneeling in the center at the feet of the apse, hands folded, it seemed, and not moving.

The man hesitated a few moments. He stared at her, and used the time to draw himself up a bit more. Finally he started to advance, reaching out to dip his hand in the holy water and cross himself as he came forward, seemingly more out of custom than genuine desire. In spite of the silence of the chamber, his footsteps barely managed to resonate or echo. It wasn't until he was halfway to her that they became audible, and before that happened, he placed his sword to one side on a pew. Normally a dangerous move…but probably more dangerous to approach the individual with a weapon.

Remarkably enough, the woman didn't react to him as he came in closer. At least, not as soon as he thought she would. However, he stopped momentarily at a distance. She was whispering, he realized, and he could just hear her from here. He paused and listened.

"But…but what if they come in here? What if Testament can't stop them?" A pause. "I know you can…and that's…what I'm scared of…" Pause. "Please, no…I don't want more… I don't like it…" Another pause. "No, not in here…the humans are too close…" Stop. "It scares them…" Stop again. "I don't _want_ to scare them! I know what it's like to be scared…" She trembled a bit. "P-P-Please…s-s-stop talking like that…" Another pause. "Stop! Don't yell at me!" She heard a sniffling sound. "Please…d-d-don't fight! Just…just everyone stop!"

As the conversation went on, it sounded more and more to Sol like the sounds of a paranoid schizophrenic. Somehow, however, he doubted that was the case.

"…Praying?"

The young woman was instantly silent as she whirled around and looked behind her, her body tight with fear. In a moment, he realized it was the Gear. The face was innocent and human enough…but the eyes. Only the Gears had that shade of red in the vision.

He held up his hands. "I'm unarmed. I'm not here to attack you."

Not answering, the young woman looked around herself; seeming either to check for more opponents or for her protector.

"I don't think you were talking to God just now." Sol went on, undeterred. "Who was it?"

The young woman looked back to him. She stared at him afterward, trembling a little and uneasy; the kind of way a child might when they see an adult who frightens them but still tries to talk to them, like she was subconsciously making herself smaller. She answered so quietly he could barely hear her.

"Undine…and Necro."

Sol raised an eyebrow. "Undine and Necro." He echoed.

She gave a timid nod.

"Are they 'gods'?"

"…They're always with me." She quietly answered. "As long as I can remember…"

"It sounds like you were arguing with them."

The young woman's arms raised and wrapped around her middle as she cringed into a bit more of a ball.

"Do they…talk back to you?"

She hesitated, and then nodded.

"Do they say things you don't like?"

She paused…and then nodded a little more slowly.

"Like what?"

"Undine…is nice to me. She doesn't like humans, but…she doesn't like seeing me scared and afraid or crying. So she won't hurt them…for my sake… But…" She swallowed. "Necro…doesn't like _anyone_. I don't even think he likes me… He yells at me when I cry…and sometimes…he calls me bad names…names that Testament says you should never call a woman… Sometimes he even tries to grow _over_ me…so he can start moving my arms and legs without me…"

"And what would he do if he could move your arms and legs without you?"

The young woman was silent for a while. "…I don't want to talk about it."

Sol paused, but then changed the subject. "You're not safe here. Not anymore. But you know that already, don't you?"

The young woman hesitated, but then nodded. "Testament says…I'll never be safe anywhere, though. Not forever…" She placed a hand up on one arm and wrung it. "…I want things to go back to before so many humans knew about me. I don't like hiding all the time. I don't like being in this town. I want to go back to the forest…"

"You'll learn as you get older there's a lot of things you can never 'go back' to." Sol answered as he began to step forward again, slowly enough. The Gear still looked up as he came, recoiling slightly, but in the end stayed calm as he kept approaching. "Things that you'll just have to live with. This is one of them."

"But…but why? I didn't hurt anyone… I never hated them…"

"It doesn't matter. People in this world will hate you simply because you were born. If humans hate their own kind for being born under a certain religion, a certain skin, or under a certain flag, how much more will they find ways to hate someone like you."

The young woman trembled more and wrapped her arms more tightly around herself. Sol couldn't be sure but he thought he saw the back of her dress starting to bulge. Her face looked more and more downcast as she sniffled.

"…It's like Testament keeps telling me. I'll have to kill them all to be safe."

"No."

The Gear looked up at that.

"That's the mark of a coward." Sol answered, stopping again but much closer this time. "Someone who can only feel secure when they destroy anything around them that can harm them. The mark of someone who doesn't have the character to even exist. Danger is a part of life. Some of us were unfortunate enough to be born exposed to more than others. But even a lowly insect, which is prey to everything in the world, goes about its business peacefully day after day. It accepts it…it adjusts."

"But…but…" The young woman started to protest, her eyes shimmering. "I…I don't want to be alone and scared, either. I don't want to spend the rest of my life running and hiding. It's…it's not fair."

" _Life_ isn't fair. Better for you to learn that now than later. Dealing with an unfair hand is the price you have to pay to keep existing."

The young woman paused. She bowed her head, closing her eyes. The bulges on her back moved up and down.

"I'm not one to sugarcoat things. Not at times like this. That's why I got this out up front. Mark my words, however…because of what you are, life is _always_ going to be a struggle for you. No matter what you choose. Either you spend the rest of your life running and hiding, as you said…or you spend the rest of your light fighting and killing. Either way, you won't find rest. Not now. Not ever. Not until the day you die. The question now is which one of those you choose. Now you show what kind of character you really are. You didn't kill those people from Hildebrant no matter how much they tortured and tormented you. Why not?"

The young woman looked up to him, her face both sad but almost confused. "How can you ask that? They were people like me. I didn't want them to suffer. I never wanted _anyone_ to suffer."

"Even if the entire world hated you? If it would do nothing but try to hurt and kill you?"

The young woman reacted to that. She shrank and held, gritting her teeth. "I…I…"

"What is killing a man to you? Is it something you genuinely feel against? Or something you are simply squeamish about? Something you can get used to?"

Fabric sounded started to rip, and suddenly the young woman looked back up at him, eyes blazing. "Stop it…stop it!" She shouted at him. "Stop asking me these things! Who are you?! Are you only here to make me feel bad too? Just like everyone else?!"

"I'm here to see your resolve before going any further." Sol simply answered, not batting an eye. "Answer me…are you willing to do the right thing even if no one will ever praise you for it? Even if you'll only be hated more and more for it? To spare a life simply because it's the right thing to do?"

"Of course I am!" The young woman shot back.

The bounty hunter paused after hearing that.

"Actions speak louder than words…but if that's true, then you should know-"

A creaking sound rang out behind Sol.

In a flash, he snapped around, and the young woman looked up as well, more anxious. The bounty hunter, however, showed a rare bit of unease himself.

However, it wasn't the door to the chapel that opened. Rather, it was the one from the priest's vestibule on the opposite side. Seeing it honestly struck Sol as odd. He thought that part was covered by the police. Yet it didn't sound like they were storming in… In fact, after a moment, only a single individual entered into the room. This was bad to him. He had started off "rough" with the young Gear and he was about to get to the payoff, and right now wasn't a good time to interrupt. But what more, he wondered who it could have been.

Yet the figure who walked in was one he wasn't familiar with. A Japanese man in glasses, dressed in an outfit that seemed more suitable for a performance than combat or practicality. His bare torso was completely dry, as he looked forward to both of them and smiled.

"I knew if I watched one long enough, the other would appear." He announced.

The bounty hunter showed no reaction to the fact that he was obviously here for him as well as the Gear. "…Do I know you?"

"No, but I am familiar with you after all that research I've done, Sol Badguy." The man answered as he began to walk in between pews. "Or would you prefer 'Frederick'?"

Sol showed no change, but he didn't say anything either, keeping his eyes on him.

After a moment, he emerged in the middle of the aisle, and he noticed that the man made sure he was a step in front of where he had put down the Fuureken. The move seemed casual enough, but he knew he had done it deliberately.

"How interesting…" He went on. "To not only meet two Gears in the same room, but one who actually kills other Gears…"

Now, Sol did react, although only slightly. The young woman, however, was a different matter. Her mouth loosened, and she looked to the man in disbelief. "Wh…what?"

"…I don't know what you're blathering about."

"Don't insult my intelligence, even if I don't have a fraction of your experience." The man answered as he pushed up on his glasses. "I've seen the photos of you in the Crusades. You're in ones dating back over a hundred years and you haven't aged a day. The rest of it makes perfect sense. Who else but another Gear could take on individual ones and win routinely? Who else could have taken out Justice? Even Kliff Undersun didn't have nearly that amount of power. The more I thought on it, the more it made sense. To think…to spend years looking for 'answers', and finding two sources in the same chamber…"

The young woman's eyes shimmered as she stared at Sol. "You… Testament told me…there was a Gear who pretended to be a human bounty hunter…who killed other members of our kind…" She shrank back slightly. The bulges surged again, and more ripping sounds went out. "You…it's you, isn't it?"

Sol ignored her, instead stepping forward slightly, away from her and more toward the newcomer. "You're intruding on a private conversation…and, to be honest, you are completely out of your league. You should leave now while you still can."

"Not without answers to my questions." The Japanese man answered. "That's the whole reason I came here. That's the whole reason I came into this cathedral two days ago and found a nice place out of the way that wasn't checked to hide, even from the IPF who came in and patrolled, waiting for this moment. I'd like to know more about the Gears. _Really_ know about them. Why they exist. Who built them. If it's really true what the legends say. Most of all…why they leveled Japan first. Basic military history tells you that armies always strike the most 'vulnerable' spot they can to start things off, things that will either cripple the enemy or make a statement. Why did they strike Japan? Tell me."

"What makes you think I know?"

"At the bare minimum you lived that long, I'm sure."

Sol's gaze narrowed. "I haven't the time for this. I gave you one warning already. Leave now or I'll remove you. There's too little time before the police arrive."

"I agree. So give me my answers now. I have ways of getting them out of you, after all…"

With that, the man reached for his sides. Sol was unimpressed as he pulled out what looked like a pair of staves…

But his expression changed a moment later. On a rare occasion, the man actually registered surprise as the Japanese man shifted them both to his palms, and then snapped his wrists: unfurling a pair of bronze-colored, shimmering, metallic fans.

The man swept them in front of him soon after. "Recognize these? I thought you might. According to my research, they're called the 'Zessen'. And I learned about just how powerful they were not too long ago…as well as the fact that they were designed to kill Gears."

Sol tightened his fist slightly, regaining himself, but now looking sterner and colder.

"…Where did you get those?"

"You won't answer my questions, and you expect me to answer yours? At any rate, feel like talking yet? I may not have as much experience as you, but I'm armed with these, and I'm keeping you from your sword. This fight might not be nearly as even as you think."

Sol continued to stare. "I warned you to stand down. Now I'll warn you to put down those weapons and-"

The Japanese man cut him off, suddenly flinging one of the fans out right for the bounty hunter, sending it spiraling in a "boomerang-like" arc.

Finding that he was taking advantage of him talking, the man cursed to himself for getting too "gabby"…a side effect of seeing the Zessen again after so long…and proceeded to dart to one side. As he did, he raised a foot and slammed it down against one of the pews, immediately launching it up and into the air, flipping it over behind him. The young woman cried in alarm and shrank back, but she failed to notice the real reason for the move. As the Zessen fan arced through the air, passing by where Sol had been, it had gone straight for her…until the pew swung down in front of it. Although it wasn't enough to stop it, swinging down on the fan deflected its path even when it cut through it, causing it to arc around and hit the stone steps instead even as the Gear rose and ran up them. As for Sol, he quickly brought his speed to bear, shooting forward, pivoting off the ground, and launching himself almost in a lunge right for the Japanese man, already pulling back a fist, ready to smash it into his face.

Seeing him coming, the man quickly spread the other Zessen and braced it in front of him like a shield. Sol frowned mentally as he realized this man must have already learned of its ability to negate trauma, but being too late to stop himself, he drove his fist as hard as he could into it none the less. Normally, had it been any other metal fan weapon, it would have ripped through and punched him out. As it was, a rattling "bam" rang through the entire cathedral before the Japanese man staggered back, went off his feet, and fell down on his rear end. However, Sol was unable to press his advantage, and quickly tore to one side as the first Zessen completed its arc and came right back up to the Japanese man. And, in the interim, he saw him roll forward and spring back to his feet with surprising dexterity, seizing the fan out of the air, and instantly advancing on Sol.

While he wasn't the best fighter in the world, he seemed to have adapted his dancing style rather well. He swung the fan out in large arcs while advancing in huge steps, crossing the distance to Sol quickly and maintaining a wide-reaching offense. The way his sleeves fluttered along with the glow of the powerful weapons, it created almost a sense of illusion that obscured the fine details of his movements, making him harder to track. If that wasn't enough, Sol's fist was honestly a bit numbed. Even striking the fan had hurt it and left it feeling on the weak side, and it would continue to do so for a few moments yet, during which he would find himself still under attack.

The reach of the fans, their position, and the way they were sweeping kept him from being able to move in between attacks to land a hit. Therefore, he waited until the fan had fully swung one way, leaving the Japanese man as exposed as possible, and then quickly darted inward. His opponent reacted and tried to bring the fan he had just swung back as fast as he could, but Sol was quicker, extending an arm to block his from being able to swing back, and quickly bringing a fist up to smash in his face and hopefully end this…

Yet he didn't have the chance. Again, moving fluidly like a dancer would, the opponent reacted fast and used Sol's own block as a fulcrum to spin back and out of the way, swinging the other end of the fan out in the process to try and counterattack. It wasn't the most focused attack Sol had ever seen, but he shot back none the less, knowing it was coming from a Zessen fan. Yet he moved too slow, and in spite of his best effort to recoil he still caught one of the collapsed fans to the side of his head.

He had to fight not to grit his teeth as he felt a rather painful jolt rock through it, enough to actually dazzle him for a moment as he staggered back. It continued to radiate pain afterward, and felt numb on one side. He realized too many things were against him. Between the tightness of his headband reducing his power, the fact that he was unarmed, that he was still recovering even now from Testament's slash, and that this was the Zessen being used against him, which naturally nullified a lot of his ability…he had caught himself at a tall disadvantage. Normally this fight should have been over in ten seconds flat, Zessen or no Zessen. Yet he had taken two hits now, and added to everything else it had a mark on him. He had to focus harder…

The Japanese man quickly pressed his advantage. He was fighting mostly using instinct and speed, trying to at least move fast enough to keep Sol off guard. The fact that he hadn't made a serious mistake yet helped him quite a bit, but Sol knew it wouldn't last. Right now, he had switched his fans around to sweep them up and down, approaching him by making figure-eights in cutting motions to try and keep him occupied. Because of the range, he couldn't distinctly run by him unless he got out of range of the pews. And he knew that if he used that to run around him, he'd get enough distance to where the man could throw the Zessen at him again. He had clearly put some thought into this…but still, Sol wasn't done.

Abruptly, as he backed up, his hand shot out, seized one of the pews, and with one pull yanked it in front of him out into the main aisle. He raised a boot and gave it a rather sharp kick a moment later, sending the entire wooden bench right at him. The man quickly moved his fans downward, slicing through it as it came, but his pattern was incorrect. While he sliced most of it to bits and deflected it, he left the middle portion intact, which went right for he shins and collided with them. He let out a cry and faltered and, in the interim, Sol shot forward. He saw his mistake and what had happened, and quickly tried to right himself and spread the fans in front of him, but Sol was prepared as well. Rather than punch, he lunged forward, extended his knee, and struck the fans hard once again. While they absorbed some of the blow, the hit still went through and collided with the man's jaw on the other side, again, sending him spilling, this time all the way on his back.

Ignoring him for the moment, Sol's eyes flashed to the Fireseal. He quickly bolted for it; only to feel a rather stinging, burning, and even numbing pain flash across one of his legs as he ran by the fallen Japanese man. It was enough to make him stumble, thanks to being the Zessen, causing him to fall on one knee. He snapped his head to look, and saw that the Japanese man wasn't even stunned as he flipped himself back onto his feet. He realized that his skill must have helped him again, as he had rolled with the last blow, letting Sol push him to the ground rather than standing against it. And as soon as he tried to go by, he lashed out and slashed for the side of his leg. He was lucky it hadn't hit the tendon.

In a flash, the man was back on his feet, and swinging out with the fan in the process, trying to slash at Sol from the side. He had remarkable stamina, but it only figured as the Zessen fans had protected him against almost all of the damage so far. However, Sol wasn't quite down yet either. He dodged past the first one by going into a side roll, and did two more as the Japanese man got back on his feet and swung out with his other fan before trying to stab him with the first, collapsing it again into a "stave" to do so. But by that point, Sol had managed to change tactics by shooting his hand toward another pew, snatching a hymnal off of it, and throwing it into the man's face. In a flash, he moved a Zessen out to slice it to bits, but the end result caused a storm of paper to fly in his face, blinding him.

He seemed to realize what was coming and moved a fan to intercept, but this time he was too slow. He had already collapsed the fan, and by the time he got it unfurled, Sol was already up and swinging the back of his hand out for his head. Quickly, he tried to both guard and dodge backward but was too slow as the edge of the fist still smacked him in the face. Even the light blow was enough to wrench his head in one direction and send him sprawling. He kept the fans in front of him, however, moving to shield him from further damage for one moment…

But Sol didn't press it. In a flash, he pivoted, shot back to the pew, seized the Fuureken, ignited it in fresh flame to burn off the wrappings, and then swung around back for the other side; just in time to deflect one of the Zessen fans that had been flung at him while his back was turned. He would have preferred to deflect it entirely, but based on its nature, it spiraled around and returned to its caster. The Japanese man, righting himself, seized it out of the air, and quickly crossed both before him.

The two stared at one another for a moment. Neither panted or showed they were tired, but Sol was already realizing he had gotten too careless. He was so used to any human besides Ky being such a non-opponent that he had kept himself in an underpowered state. Now, due to his past injury plus the fact that his own weapons were being used against him, he had taken enough hits to make this fight far more serious. He could still win but the question was how long it would take. Testament could be done with Chipp at any time…or Ky could storm the cathedral.

"I only started applying my dancing style to fighting a little while ago…" The Japanese man said with a smile. "Let's see how far it gets me against one of the world's best opponents. I'm curious to find out…"

A moment later, he spun and advanced with both fans spread out.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	17. Gloomy Sunday

**"** **Gloomy Sunday"**

* * *

 _Two Minutes Earlier_

* * *

 _Well, here we are…and I'm toast…_

 _…_ _No! Stop thinking that! Remember what he tried to do to you! You're smarter now! Wiser! You can do this!_

The chapel was indeed empty. The ceiling was a bit lower in here, but in essence it was a very large empty space with a flat stone floor. There was a small vestibule for service in the back, but it was blank for the moment. Only a single large crucifix hung on the wall. There wasn't any lighting in here at all except for windows, and they were only letting in gray light and rainwater. Without fear, Testament had led him through the back halls to this point, not caring that he left his back to him the whole time. Chipp knew enough to know that wasn't accidental. He did so on purpose…as if daring him to try and take the shot.

Yet at last, when he got to the center of the chapel, he stopped and swiveled around in an instant.

"Let's get this over with." He stated as he slapped his hands together and slowly drew them apart, making the staff of his blood-red scythe appear in between them. "I'd give you one last chance to back away but the truth is I have no qualms about killing you, and if you were stupid enough to not leave well enough alone after England, you're truly too foolish to live anyway."

Chipp didn't answer yet. He took another moment to look around. He made a note of the shadows…the columns…even higher points throughout the chapel that had décor he could grab onto or places he could hide. He definitely had a lot to work with here. If only he could make good use of it. After that, he looked back to the Gear, and then brandished his arm bearing his blade, getting into a ready position.

Testament snorted as he finished forming the staff, grasped the middle, and swung it around once; tracing a line of blood-like material in the air that became the scythe. After that, he too shifted into a ready position, his red eye burning in the darkness at Chipp, but he didn't move. He seemed to be humoring him to make the first gesture.

 _Alright then…_ He thought to himself. _Let's see what I can do…_

He swung his blade forward, but he didn't mean to attack with it. Instead, he dropped a small device he had concealed in his palm in front of him. It appeared to be nothing more than a black marble, assuming Testament had managed to see it, but it fell on the ground a moment later and erupted; immediately setting off not only a bright explosion but a blast of smoke in its wake.

This wasn't a 'smoke bomb'. It was a flash grenade. Hard to make, but possible using the proper chemicals, such as Tsuyoshi had taught him. It wasn't just to create smoke, but also to create light and noise, even force. The result would stun the senses of a human being for a matter of moments, leave them "overloaded" and easy to attack…or perhaps something else. Because when the smoke rapidly faded, Chipp was gone, having vanished into thin air.

However, Testament, on his part, simply let out a snort…and swirled around in a spiral, bringing his blade out just in time to intercept Chipp's sword from slicing into him. While Chipp's own blade quivered from the power he put into it, Testament regarded him with almost a bored look.

"Pathetic."

A moment later, the Gear whipped his scythe off and spun it in an arc so quickly and flawlessly that a ring of steel seemed to spread out around him. Chipp quickly backpedaled, moving into a backward cartwheel to get away from it, but also felt a touch of the blade slash through his clothes on his hip and tag him none the less. The wound also wasn't as shallow as he liked, as he felt hot pain mixed with blood spilling forth from the cut. A bit slower and it would have been deep enough to seriously cripple him…or worse. Nevertheless, as soon as he had backpedaled, he quickly began to leap backward…

A good thing too, for Testament drew his scythe blade back up to him, lowered his grip, and swung it forward not once but twice. As he did, energy collected along the blade and ran down it before generating what looked like phantom skulls wreathed in flame, which immediately went flying for the ninja. One tagged one of his boots as he leapt back, and even not touching it directly he felt the intense heat through it. He had to leap back again quickly to avoid the other, making himself land near a support column. He ducked behind it soon after…

Unfortunately, Testament wasn't "taking this slow". Moving his scythe to one hand and swirling it around in an deadly circle, he shot straight for that column, his red eyes focused on a tuft of black fabric that came from the torn pant leg that he had made when he tagged the ninja. In an instant, as the skulls returned to his scythe and melded into it, he was on the stone cylinder, and quickly sliced out with a blow so strong it went clean through and sliced whatever was on the opposite side.

The cut was so smooth that the column was actually left standing…but on the other side, only a tuft of fabric that looked like it had been pasted to the column with some sort of gummy adhesive in a hurry fell to the ground. One of Testament's eyebrows raised; actually showing a bit of an impressed look…

A moment later, he snapped around once again and swung his blade up just in time to evade a metal, bladed star. It had been aimed well-at his neck in the spinal region. However, he knocked it aside in a flash of sparks, and looked up to see where it had come from. Chipp was against the opposite wall of the chapel, using not only the columns for cover, but also balanced on a stone awning that was part of the décor. To most other people, this would have seemed to be practically "magic". However, the ninja was in his element and using all of his skill now. After planting the cloth, he had quickly scaled the columns out of Testament's view and then bounded off the ledge on the opposite side, around the columns, and to the ones behind him; all virtually silently. However, the Gear still didn't even look caught off guard.

Immediately, he summoned another one of the flaming skulls and flung it out at Chipp's location. The ninja quickly dodged behind a column for cover but the skull was faster this time. It ripped right through the stone, blasting out a huge chunk, and then smashed into the stone ledge where he was suspending himself. The ninja's footing was nearly caught, forcing him to jump for it to another spot. However, Testament didn't let up, and quickly threw another skull at him as he advanced. This too went for where he would be and it was only because the man shifted into a forward flip, touched off on one hand, and used it to vault over the eruption that he didn't get tagged. Even so, as "fancy" as that looked, it wasn't enough to keep him totally safe. Part of the masonry still broke under his hand, and Testament readied to throw another skull while he was stuck in that position, unable to respond…

But before he could, the ninja's arm swung out again, throwing another star even as he began to land somewhat haphazardly on the ledge opposite the eruption. This one was aimed right for Testament's eye. The Gear was forced to abort the attack and shift the scythe to smack it out of the way. As he did, Chipp landed a bit askew in a squat. However, he still had enough bearing to push himself up and launch for the shadows of one of the columns, and he slipped in behind it a moment later. As for Testament, he finished deflecting the star and looked out only to see his quarry was gone.

The Gear was silent. His red eyes flickered in the darkness, scanning overhead in the rafters. However, all he saw were the outlines of columns and shadows. No sign of Chipp. Not even the slightest noise. Testament stared a moment, and then slowly lifted a bit off the ground; enough to start hovering forward, more out toward the middle of the chapel. As he looked about from a new angle, he still saw nothing. No changes. After a time, he stopped and set on the ground again.

"Good…" He echoed slowly, as his scythe began to glow once again. A moment later, a sound of flapping rang out, clearly the noise of a bird. Without looking up to it, a black raven flew in through the window. It sailed straight into the darkened chapel without fear, spiraled around the columns for a moment, and finally went for the shadow of one to the rear.

It let out a loud caw.

"Not good enough." Testament stated as he slammed his scythe down on the air, "tearing" a "hole in reality", and quickly slipping in.

Chipp, from his hiding space back against one of the rear columns, hanging from one of the designs on top in the shadows, didn't know what this meant…until a moment later reality tore open behind him on the ledge nearest to it, and Testament came out, his scythe already up and aimed right for him. He actually let out a bit of a gasp as he was forced to not only let go, but also twist his body downward to avoid the scythe from taking off his head and arms. He managed to do so just in time before falling toward the ground, arching his body about to try and get his feet underneath him before landing…

Testament wasn't about to give him the chance. Leaping off of the ledge, he immediately sailed down after him, bringing his scythe up and around and slashing out for his body. It may have been a crazy hit in "free fall", but it was also aimed right for his heart, and the ninja had to abort his twisting to lash out with his arm-mounted blade to deflect it. Not deterred, the Gear only fell faster, twisting the blade out, and aiming for him again; this time striking down so hard that he nearly felt his arm ripped out from the force on the blade, and it was honestly only because he was falling that the force didn't go right through and into his neck. Even so, his blade arm was strained terribly from the interception. Still not done, but having already ruined Chipp's descent by stopping his ability to right himself, and nearly to the ground by now, Testament slashed out one more time, this time going against his torso in a stabbing lunge. The move was fast, and Chipp's eyes widened as he realized he couldn't block it after the pain he had just put that arm into. It was moving too slow. He brought his other arm around instead, even though it wouldn't even slow down the weapon…

"Urk-!"

He let out a noise a second later as the tip of the scythe plunged into his arm's fabric, went straight through to the other side, and toward his chest. His body went rigid afterward, his eyes widening and his mouth opening wide in shock. As for Testament, he showed no change. About to land himself, his robe suddenly "splayed out", and he seemed to defy physics to right himself in midair, as if an invisible force caught him and helped him even. He twisted his body around and down, and lightly touched on the floor. Even as he did, he effortlessly swung his scythe up with one hand, just as Chipp's body on the end went limp. Soon after, he was suspending him in the air by the blade, letting him hang from it.

The Gear looked up to him and nearly said something, perhaps a final "epitaph" before he shook him off his scythe. But then…he paused. He didn't see any blood dripping from the body or along his blade. His mind almost immediately realized what had happened at that, but it was too late.

The ninja, who had used a "feint" Tsuyoshi had taught him to appear to have been impaled through the arm into the chest, had just used the fact that it was dark in the chapel to fake the entire thing, and now came to life. The scythe had only impaled itself through a block of wood in his sleeve, and he used that as a fulcrum now to pry himself up and off…with one addition. To give himself even more force, he lashed out with one of his feet from his current position right for the face of his would-be killer. Testament's eyes widened but he was helpless to react in time before that same foot smashed him in the face.

Using the push off from that and the scythe, Chipp launched himself off and touched down on the ground in a squat. His other wound was still bleeding, and he had been both burned and tagged by the force of the skull eruptions. He was sweaty all over now and growing tired. He had used pretty much everything he knew in one powerful burst just now to keep himself alive. And…it seemed to have worked. He had managed to land a single kick on Testament's face.

Unfortunately for Chipp, Testament showed no pain. His head was to one side, but he slowly straightened it-his eyes narrowed and his look darker than ever. They seemed to gleam as he looked to Chipp, although he didn't indicate any trauma or even exhaustion. Just the same, that attack seemed to infuriate him.

"…You hit me. You actually managed to hit me."

Chipp wished he could have said something witty or confident in response, but the truth was he was scared out of his mind. The Gear may have not shown too much anger, but he could tell this was more of a "silent fury"; something he definitely hadn't expected and was now enraging him. He could watch the fingers tighten on the scythe, almost to the tune of the knuckles cracking, and he could feel the power swelling on the Gear as he readied to attack once again…

* * *

Ky was having a hard time keeping his self-control at this point, in spite of his normal prayer meditations. This was getting out of hand quickly. He could hear noise from inside the cathedral the same as everyone else. A fight was already breaking out, and the chaos was getting so noisy that every officer was getting more nervous and shaky. After all, this was an opponent unlike anything they had ever encountered before. He looked again to the time, and saw there was now a scant six minutes before those Wyverns arrived. When they did, they would blow any element of ambush that might have been left. Meanwhile, Sol was in there doing God-knew-what as well as whoever was with him.

The former Sacred Order leader didn't know what to do. Too much had fallen in. Rushing in was tantamount to suicide. He wouldn't have burst in on that cathedral if he had 30 veterans of the Crusades with him, let alone these officers, many of whom had yet to see a Gear in action. It could kill half of them in an instant on a blind move like that. These things were built to kill groups that tried. But leaving Sol in there alone wasn't much better. In addition to not knowing if he was making a bad situation worse, there was the fact that he knew he alone couldn't take both Testament as well as this Gear at the same time. Even if she had been only a little weaker than Justice that would have been bad enough. But even stronger…?

The captain looked about a few moments, seeing one nervous officer after another as the rain continued to pick up, and started to run down their faces in thick droplets. Many looked anxiously back to him, not sure what to do but losing their resolve the more they heard from the cathedral. In the end, he grit his teeth and balled his hand into a fist. This was the most "reckless" thing he had ever done, but he had no choice.

"Lieutenant." He spoke.

The nearest officer turned to him. "Yes sir?"

"Under no circumstances are you to enter the building or authorize an attack unless I give the word."

Without explaining himself further, Ky rose, leapt out of his position, and began to barrel straight for the front of the cathedral.

He could only imagine how shocked the officers were and how much they wanted to call out to him. He soon heard faint shouts behind him over the rain for everyone to hold their position, for some has mistaken this for a charge. However, Ky kept running. If he tried enacting the plan now, there'd be a tremendous loss of life, the Gear would likely escape, and there would be no manpower left to deal with her. But, he realized with more regret than anything else he had ever considered, if he went in there while Sol could still fight perhaps the two of them could actually flush her out into the open. He remembered Sol saying he was unwilling to help him, but he had no other choice but to try and go in and, as much as he loathed it, "dance to his tune". In the worst case scenario, only _he_ would die, rather than all of those IPF officers under his hand. With that in mind, he soon dashed up the stairs three at a time, leveled his shoulder, and nearly smashed into the heavy wood doors to burst into the edifice.

He had scarcely crossed the threshold when he heard the voices.

"Come on!"

"Ugh! I'm trying to get this stuff off my shoe! I don't think it's a dead ra…"

Ky had come to a halt as soon as he entered, and stared ahead. In front of him, likewise coming to a halt, was a pair of individuals who seemed to have pried one of the tiles loose from the floor, while underneath it, and climbed out into the antechamber that led to the doors into the cathedral proper. One was already at them, and the other was shaking her foot loose of some scum that she had stepped in. However, both had gone still, and slowly looked up to see who had come in.

Ky, on his part, looked over both of them. One he knew all too recently from her orange clothing and the massive unconventional weapon she had somehow dragged through the tiny hole with her. Yet the other taller, darker man with her was even more well known from his escape from prison as well as his international criminal status.

The two "heads" of the Jellyfish Air Pirates: Johnny and May.

There was a moment of silence between the two sides, either one looking surprised to see the other one there. Ky, on his part, hadn't even known there was a secret way into the cathedral from beneath. He was a bit angry he didn't as that route, if the Gears knew it, could also have ruined everything. However, it wasn't long after the doors shut behind him that he snapped out of it. He didn't have time for this. He didn't know what they were doing here, and frankly he didn't care.

In an instant, his hand was on the hilt of the Thunderseal, and it was naked and letting out a rather nasty-looking spark as he held it in the overhead posture.

"Both of you will immediately drop your weapons and stand to one side on your knees with your hands behind your heads."

The man, Johnny, let out a whistle as shook his head. "Never rains but it pours, eh? Dodge the cops for weeks only to run into the big cheese during his 'glorious charge'." He looked forward to May, who was swallowing and looking rather tense and nervous. After a moment, he gave a nod.

"May, you got this, right?"

Ky was sure the girl's eyes could have fallen out of her head as she whipped around. It was a good thing for her Ky was an honorable man or he would have struck her while her back was fully to him. "What?! _ME?!"_

Johnny grinned. "That's what I thought. My money's on you." He winked, before turning and immediately yanking the door open and darting through it.

 _"_ _Johnny, I hate you!"_ The girl screamed in misery.

Ky hardly paid any attention to her however. While she was a criminal, the truth was he had let her go not too long ago and her "captain" was the bigger target. Immediately, he advanced, meaning to rush after him and stop him before he could make the situation worse…

Yet as he ran forward, the young one, May, suddenly turned around. In spite of her shouting only seconds earlier, she immediately held up her anchor like a sword with both hands and aimed it at him. "Whoa! Hold it right there, you blue and white pig! You're not getting any closer to Johnny!"

Ky slowed, mostly out of surprise at seeing the small individual manage to hoist that large anchor and point it at him. Yet even then, he failed to notice that May held it at him without even quivering like anyone else should have…

"Stand to one side right now, miss."

"Oh no!" The pirate retorted, annoying the IPF officer a bit. "I may not like it, but Johnny is counting on me holding you back while we get to the Gear! So stay where you are or you'll regret it!"

Ky picked up on some of this, honestly rather puzzled by it. What in the world did the captain of the Jellyfish Air Pirates want with a Gear besides an early death? Surely he wasn't foolish enough to think he could somehow use it without it destroying him… Besides, as judgmental as Ky could be, he wasn't so judgmental that he could see that level of maliciousness or ambition within a person like the pirate captain. At any rate, he was getting annoyed.

"Stand back now, miss, or I'll be forced to subdue you until you can be arrested." He stated before again trying to push his way through.

"Hey!" She protested indignantly, shoving her anchor in his way, barring his path. "Who do you think you're talking to? I'm the first mate of the Jellyfish Air Pirates! That makes me the world's strongest woman!"

Ky frowned. "I am quickly losing my patience, miss. Put down that weapon before you hurt yourself."

Now, the girl looked stunned. She was shocked into silence for a moment. However, that changed quickly.

"Before I hurt… Before I… Before I hurt _myself_?!" She progressively grew more red-faced and angry looking as she said this, beginning to quiver all over with each new phrase. Her body tensed and tightened with fury. "…You listen here, bub! Just because I happened to run into a few bad spots lately doesn't mean I'm any sort of pushover! There's nothing I can't stand more than stuffed shirt pigs like you trying to treat me with kid gloves just because I'm nicely petite and easy on the eyes!" By now, she was fuming, her face tight, and her gloved hands balled into fists as she jabbed a thumb toward her own chest.

"Go on! Insult me one more time!"

Ky glared at her a moment, but then finally rolled his eyes and sighed as he swung the Thunderseal around and began to put it back into its sheath. After all, he wasn't about to draw a weapon on a woman if he could avoid it, especially after what happened with Justice. He shook his head and tried not to mutter. Hundreds of lives were at stake and he could do nothing about it because he had to waste time spanking a brat.

However, she blinked at this. "…Just what do you think you're doing with your knife?"

His gaze narrowed. "You don't really think I'm about to draw the Fuuraiken on you, are you? I'll just disable you with one hit. This will no doubt hurt, but you brought it on your-"

 _BAM._

Ky's face turned to shock even as it momentarily turned to jelly from the power that resulted when the young woman snapped up the massive anchor with one hand and swung it out as easily as if it was a child's bat, smashing it against the side of his face. The sheer force ripped him clear off his feet and sent the captain hurtling back, smashing into the doors to the cathedral so hard that they cracked a bit beneath the force of his impact, before he went to the ground. He barely managed to catch himself, but even then didn't get up right away. His eyes remained wide as he felt his head spinning and a hot pain flash through his face. If he hadn't already trained himself to be such a resilient warrior, not to mention to use his own lightning power to "lock" his very skin and muscle fibers, that would have nearly taken off his head. It definitely would have killed 95% of the people on this planet…

As for the pirate girl, she easily swung her anchor up and over a shoulder, before dropping into a ready stance. "That'll teach you to insult young ladies. Still think you can just take me out with one hit?"

To be honest, Ky had been doubtful of the reports from the IPF that the Jellyfish Air Pirate known only as "May" had effortlessly wielded an anchor that easily weighed over a metric ton as if it was inflated. Yet it seemed his unlucky day was only getting worse after what she just did. At any rate, he didn't have time to delay on this. Quickly bringing up his own strength, he shot to his feet and dashed forward again, moving much faster this time as he brought his own speed to bear and meaning to simply vault over the girl and head into the cathedral.

However, he was still underestimating her own speed as she answered by swinging out her anchor again, this time orientating it around so that the points were aimed vertically, creating a massive swinging surface that cut a rather wide arc both horizontally as well as vertically. Ky nearly ran into it, having focused more on speed than skill, and only avoided getting smacked by it by quickly countering with kicking out one foot, striking it and "recoiling" off of the anchor, using it as leverage to knock him back and away from her. He might have been durable but he didn't want to get hit by that anchor again…especially the points.

Yet to his surprise, he had hardly managed to land when he saw May was launching herself at him. Swinging her anchor down and using it as a point of leverage, she launched her small body directly at his head, extending a foot for his face. Quickly, the man answered by putting up an arm to block, connecting with the foot and keeping it from hitting its intended target, but as May snapped off of it, the move had allowed her to get closer to him. Choking up on her anchor, she began to swing it at him from this new distance with shorter range but more power, aiming first at hitting his head from underneath. He _definitely_ couldn't risk letting her hit him in the head with that, and darted back. Yet not stopping there, the girl dropped down to the floor and slid straight at him when he went back, lashing out a foot to kick him in the shin. The captain was still having a hard time fathoming how this little girl could move so fast carrying the huge anchor, and he was sluggish on the upkeep as he felt his leg struck and knocked out behind him, causing him to spill forward and go down to the ground, landing on his face this time.

He quickly arose, and a good thing too, for as he pushed himself off the ground, May was already advancing with her anchor over her head and moving to bring it down on his skull. His own eyes widening a bit, he quickly pushed off and back onto his feet, snapping back and getting just the tail of his coat cleaved by the tip of the anchor. However, this move had put May past her limit, overextending herself and leaving her stunned for a moment. Immediately, Ky seized on it by shooting in, cocking back a fist, and swinging it for her face.

"Ow!"

Unfortunately, Ky's mentality was still in an honor code. He couldn't recall the last time, if ever, he had punched a girl in the face. He pulled the punch so severely that it couldn't have done more than "smarted". When May's face almost immediately snapped back from the hit, she was frowning but didn't even have a red mark.

"What kind of wimpy hit was that? I thought you were supposed to have beat up Justice?"

Immediately, she darted forward again, swinging her anchor more abruptly and threateningly. She was still choked up on it, but between her speed and the anchor's reach, she was able to keep the willfully-unarmed IPF officer at bay and force him further and further back toward the doors.

"Come on and draw your sword! Fight me already!" She shouted.

 _Weren't you terrified of fighting me a moment ago?_ Ky thought with some confusion. But also, he used this latest surge of emotion from his opponent. As she wasted time on shouting at him, he moved to one side, causing her to, in turn, aim her anchor to swing at him from that side. Yet that was a mistake, as by doing so she left a large opening on her opposing side, which Ky moved to seize. Quickly leaping off of one foot, he launched himself to the side and broke into a run, meaning to shoot by the girl…

He got a surprise again a moment later when the anchor swung down, one of its hooked points aimed out, and snagged him by the same ankle she had struck before and sent him tripping and sprawling on his face.

"Just where do you think you're going?"

As Ky once again collided with the ground, he managed to recover faster this time and quickly scrambled up…just in time to see the pirate undo her anchor, tuck it inward, and then do a rather impressive leap backward from there, actually somersaulting as she did so, launching herself past Ky and once more putting her body in front of him. Once landed, she again snapped out her anchor and began to dash at him. The captain had been so slow in getting up that he nearly had to scramble again to evade her as she moved in, narrowly dodging the anchor as it swung for where he was and sent only a sharp gust of air. Yet no sooner had he gotten to his feet than she was on him again.

 _Her attack style is completely erratic and crude…_ Ky thought as he darted back further. _But she's such a high level magic with strength infusion, and her weapon is so odd, its effective by making her so ferocious and with such a long reach that she can just keep hammering her opponent wildly until he falls._

As May pulled back again, Ky darted into another one of her openings, using his own enhanced speed, and launched out a side kick aimed for her neck. He could control his upper body too well…so maybe if he tried using his feet his blows would be too out-of-control to focus and he'd end up dropping her. Much to his displeasure, nothing of the sort happened. She winced a bit from it, but in the end the only real change was her irritation at having been so lightly hit. In fact, she got so angry that she swung out her anchor while he was close and caught him hard in the stomach with the center of it, actually feeling a bruise on a rib, before the girl's surprising power ripped him off of his feet and flung him hard into the side wall of the antechamber. Seeing as it had a design on it, which dug into his back, it was more than a little painful and left him stunned a moment. Yet he managed to recover fairly quickly before May followed up with another swipe for his head, and he barely managed to duck under that as the anchor raked the stone where his head was.

As he pulled back, he grimaced inwardly. _I can't bring myself to go full power against her or even draw my sword… If I killed her, even if she's a criminal, I couldn't live with myself… I have enough stamina to outlast her, strong as she is, but that could take forever… I have to think of something…_

Right now, however, as he dodged another swipe at his legs, this one which could have drawn some blood, he realized he needed to just focus on what was going on.

* * *

For group missions, the Assassin's Syndicate had rather sharp guidelines-especially against someone like Millia Rage.

Three of them were still out in the street, taking cover, but progressively making their way forward in full view of the front entrance to the hair salon. The two on the roof kept their aim out on the front as well, looking in through the shadows for any sign of movement. However, Rage seemed to be smart enough to stay well out of the range of vision, which meant unless someone flushed them out into it, they couldn't get a shot. It made little difference. There were nine more where that came from.

Two were moving in through the back. A basic technique. While the three outside drew the attention, they would come in through the back and ambush them. They moved almost totally silently, with one taking a far lead. After all, that meant if one leapt out and ambushed them, then the partner would be able to take them out. Another was moving in from the side through a floor window. There wasn't much to this small barber shop, including no basement or side windows, but a strong enough assassin with good senses could attack through the wall in the adjoining building.

Of course, this was only one "wave". While these three made their way into the first floor, three more were coming in through the second floor. There was a single window in the back on the upper level, long since blacked out and sealed, but it wasn't much for one of them to break in and start coming inside. There was a good chance the upper floor was boarded up and unused, but there was also a good chance they had elected to hide up there. At any rate, the window opened into a small hallway that led to three rooms, two of which had doors open, and the stairs leading down to the back of the first floor, which the first group had already passed.

Finally, the last three were going on the roof. All of them were the more burly of the group. They didn't necessarily look that way, but when you were a lower class of magic that was strength enhanced, you didn't have to be. Considering how old the salon was, it wouldn't take them any time at all to punch straight through the ceiling and leap inside. Right now, they listened for the sounds of anything. After all, they knew there may have been one "good" assassin in there, but she was hurt. The other was a greenhorn. The only people who would be making any noise would be their targets. So they readied their weapons and stayed low to the roof, trying to hear over the pouring rain…

As the one in the lead on the first floor neared the door into the main salon, which was just slightly ajar to let some light in, normally she would have expected to have better hearing than anyone else. Being on the first floor, some of the rainfall was muffled, after all. However, as she got closer, she heard the sounds of running water that couldn't be rain. It was coming in a sink or, rather, several of them. And as she drew closer yet, she began to see a thick haze in the room beyond. Coming from what looked like smoke or steam. In fact, large clouds of it were beginning to run through the crack. The assassin paused. It seemed Rage knew enough to give herself every advantage she could. With the sinks running hot water, then both steam as well as the sound of running water would obscure the eyes and ears. Against a trained killer, that would be all the advantage they needed. But the assassin knew she had been hit already. She was probably barely conscious at this point. It only delayed the inevitable by a heartbeat or two.

As this assassin reached the door, upstairs the other three began to fan out. These three were actually using a mixture of hand weapons and firearms. One with gauntlets lined with thick spikes took the closed door. No doubt, one of them was waiting to ambush them by popping out of there while they checked out the other two. Once he had it, the others ventured forward a bit more. The one in the lead went for the room on the end while the other covered the one on the side. The side room revealed nothing but darkness and storage, but the one up ahead was cracked just enough to look inside if one was careful.

When this assassin looked in, he saw that this must have been the "bedroom" for whatever owner of the salon lived here. It was somewhat messy and dirty, but he could just make out a form on the bed in there, laying on its side. The room was dark, but in the dim light through the window he could see traces of white and blue fabric, and just a tuft of blond hair near the head region. However, he wasn't fooled. He knew it clearly had to be a dummy, a decoy meant to lure an assassin into lowering his or her guard. In a place like this, finding blond hair lying around was easy. And so, without venturing any closer in spite of how poor it was to see in the darkness, he looked up and around a bit more.

After a moment, he spotted it. He had no idea how she had managed to drag her injured body up there, but it had to do with her hair. There were high shelves in this room filled with all sorts of random bits of junk and possessions, including bedding and other clothes. He saw, however, poking up from behind a few rows in the back were some strands of blond hair that, even in the dim lighting, were unmistakably her color. And from this angle, he knew that she couldn't see him yet to get a good counter on him. No doubt, her hair alone could kill them even if the rest of her body was helpless, but he wasn't going to give her the chance. Although this was a bit close range, he held out his own long-barreled weapon, one of the newer guns on the black market which was "convertible", and began to shift it from its current shotgun state (which he meant to blast her with scatter at close range if need be) to a rifle mode…

As for the one below, she readied her own weapon. "First strike" assassins in this situation were always armed with special talents rather than direct weaponry. What was the point of having powerful magic if you didn't use it, after all? And it just so happened by making clouds of steam whoever was in the other room had sealed their fate. This one had power over water. With a few gestures and concentration, she could turn ambient fog, mist, or, in this case, steam into burning acid. Whoever was inside would be blinded and choked and be easy prey. Unfortunately, with steam, there was a risk. Too concentrated in the wrong spot and the acid could billow back in their faces and leave them all crippled. She wanted a good look at the head region of this individual first.

Behind her was an assassin with an equally good talent: an ability to manipulate metal over small ranges. All she needed was a good look at a piece of metal and the target's heart, and in a moment she could make a deadly shard fly off and stick them to a wall. However, she held back, well out of range of anything. If anything went wrong, she'd spring into action; namely whenever the opponent showed herself. She held now and waited as the first assassin made her move. She already thought, even with the crack, she could just see a bit of red clothing through the door that the other one was wearing. With that in mind, knowing full well the woman might be waiting for her on the other side, she slowly put her hand out and grasped the metal door handle. She meant to push it in ever so slowly, like it was drifting open, just to get a good look…

However, she got a horrible surprise instead.

A pair of curling irons, the clamp style, had been turned up on high and placed around the door handle. Being of a higher quality sort, they had heated quickly and turned the metal handle into a hot iron. Rather than slowly ease the door open, the assassin yelped, losing all focus on her power she might have had, and violently released, causing it to swing open…

And that's when Jam struck. Immediately, she popped out from the side wall and launched out two powerful kicks, the first swinging forward and smashing the assassin in the throat, flinging her back with such violence in the short hall that she ended up smashed against the side: her neck pinned and her throat was crushed. As she gagged, Jam barely gave her a moment to get out one rasp before her foot smashed out again, this time crushing her head between the force of the blow and the wall, and soon dropping her.

The assassin behind Jam was stunned by this sudden move, not knowing at first what had caused the reaction. But on seeing one of the targets out, she immediately focused on her chest and tried to locate a piece of metal to send into her heart. However, what she didn't know was that the cook had been "prepped" on what move was going to be made, and no sooner had she disabled the first assassin than she snapped back, brought her leg high and over her head, and then down again-slamming it down on an old signboard that had been brought inside which had been balanced over a tall can and had razors stuck in the other side. On slamming her foot down, a dozen deadly metal objects went flying at the second assassin like they had been launched from a catapult. She barely had time to gasp before the deadly blades embedded in a dozen places on her face, neck, and chest: one of them slicing right through the carotid by chance. She grasped for her neck but was already dead and heading down before she managed to find a way to clamp it.

The chef barely had a chance to catch her breath, sweating both from steam as well as the sudden reaction, not to mention the fact that she had just killed someone, when the wall let out a groan. She turned to it, and soon got a resounding crash as one of the larger, older metal vents popped open, and a third assassin who moved so fluidly it was almost as if her body was liquid leapt out and landed on the ground. Immediately, Jam advanced and launched a thrust kick right at her chest, meaning to catch her in the hardest part of the body to move, but to her surprise the woman was so fluid that she not only easily seemed to slide around the foot like water being kicked into, she "splashed around" by twisting, leaping into the air, and then launching out a jump side kick of her own that caught the woman in the act. It had surprising power. Perhaps not as much at Millia's hair, but in spite of the fact that she had been bracing her body for it she still staggered back multiple steps. That gave the assassin time to even herself out, get her footing, and soon surge right at Jam.

Although her face was still smarting and developing a bruise, the woman quickly got into her "one-leg defensive" posture and moved to intercept. Yet when she tried launching counter-kicks to stop the advance, the opponent didn't even block. She seemed to easily move around all of them and kept coming, until she lashed out with a powerful blow to Jam's throat. It was only because she was so skilled already and snapped back in time that it didn't do more damage, but she still got a rather pained, focused blow that felt like a blunt object, and she gagged and recoiled in pain as she staggered back.

Immediately, the assassin stomped her feet down and a pair of blades emerged from her boots. It looked as if they were dipped in some foul liquid that Jam, in spite of being gagged, her throat burning and struggling to recover, could tell smelled horrible; like poison. Immediately, she was on her again, launching one fast sweeping kick after another. Soon, still stunned and unable to effectively counter, the chef began to recoil. She didn't dare press her attack now. One cut from those likely-poisoned blades would be enough to kill her. All she could do was back up, and as she did she realized with growing anxiety that she was being pushed farther and farther back toward the sinks…and the wall…

But, she realized, also something else.

The assassin took one more swipe at Jam, forcing her back enough to where she slammed into the work station between two chairs, piled high with various shampoos and conditioners. She had recovered by now, but was nervous and sweating again on realizing there was nowhere to back up. However, her hand reached behind her, fumbling for a weapon of some sort clearly, and soon she came back with one: a spray bottle used for wetting hair. On seeing her go for something, the assassin nearly pressed in, but then paused. After all, that was hardly a threat, and it actually made her ease up for a moment, as if daring her to see what, if anything, that would do. As a result, she let Jam aim the spray bottle up at her face and squeeze out a few blasts of mist.

It wasn't long before she reacted much as the first assassin had, screaming in pain. The bottle wasn't loaded with water, but rather the same acidic disinfectant agent that had been used to clean off the combs and scissors within the hair salon. Mixing with the vapor, it soon had no trouble leaking into the assassin's eyes and nose, and the burning sensation plus the gagging soon left her recoiling in pain of her own. Jam quickly seized on it, giving a yell, she dashed forward and gave another thrust kick, this one hitting home with such power that the assassin was flung back ten feet before being knocked on her back. She tried to rise in spite of the pain from the blow having left quite a mark, but Jam followed up, leapt into the air, swung her legs overhead, and delivered a double-kick against the woman's head which knocked her back to the floor again. Moving over her, Jam quickly brought her leg up one more time and then slammed the heel down in an axe kick on her head. The assassin went limp…definitely unconscious if not much worse.

At roughly the same time the first assassin got the "hot hand", things were already underway upstairs. With one assassin keeping watch on the closed door, the other had gotten out his rifle and was drawing a bead upon the head region of Millia. However, the one who was the farthest behind soon heard the cry, and turned his own head. The hallway and stairwell were dark, but he knew that had come from downstairs. And a moment later, on hearing flesh and bone alike crunch, he quickly snapped away from the other two and began to barrel for the stairs. Unfortunately, he had scarcely reached the top step when he failed to see a knotted rope made from long blond hair had been stretched across it tight. Not strong enough to do much, but braided enough to be tight. On catching his ankle, his eyes widened and he gave a cry of his own before the surge of his momentum made him trip and fall over, beginning to fall down the stairs. He had such speed that he didn't tumble down one at a time to the small "landing" below, but rather fell over the staircase all together and began to go down.

Unfortunately for him, he also didn't see until a split second before impact that a series of barber scissors had been erected all along that landing, with the "comb side" anchoring them into the wood and the "sharp edge" pointed upward. His death was fairly quick as he managed to catch one that punctured his left ventricle among the others that lodged in his body.

Although he had a moment to cry out, the other assassin wasn't waiting. Already, he was expecting Rage to make a move as soon as she heard the sounds of death from the basement, seizing the opportunity to attack. He reasoned that the only reasons he hadn't sprung already was because he was looking right at her and she was trying to "stay hidden". By now, he had a bead on her head, so rather than react to what was happening downstairs, he turned his rifle's firing power up to maximum penetration, wanting to make sure to go through whatever defense she had (possibly by layering her hair to act as a "helmet"), and then squeezed the trigger and fired a shot that sounded like an anti-tank bullet.

Unfortunately for the man, he failed to realize just how keen Millia Rage was on the Assassin Syndicate's standard procedure when working in groups. They were unpredictable as units or small teams. Everyone had their own style then. But put them together in large enough numbers, and eventually you had a "representative from every pool" that made their plans conform. And Rage, in spite of being paralyzed and nearly out of it after having managed to remove the poisoned dart and tie off her wound as best as possible, had a partner in the form of Jam who was more than strong enough to carry her upstairs briefly on her back, after she had finished setting up everything downstairs. Once there, she also had enough of her eyesight to, when carried in the back room, look at a hole through the wall and espy the two gunners on the distant roof, and knew what to do from there.

Rage had suspected that the assassin would not go for the first target and look elsewhere, and so he had looked up and spotted a second decoy: far more deadlier than the first. It was indeed her hair…hair she could sever at will and regrow whenever necessary. But aside from a few bits of blue and white cloth similar enough to her clothes to draw the attention of gunfire, the only other thing that had been set up was a small box of a dozen or so expired hairspray cans. Following the Crusades, while technology improved in some areas, a great deal of other technologies downgraded due to being too expensive. One of those was the volatility of the aerosol agents within hair care products in poor parts of the world. Each one of those cans of hairspray was essentially a hand grenade under the right conditions, such as when a heated bullet ripped through three of them.

Millia had been shown by her mentor years ago how to make an effective explosive from things such as this, and she had done so a couple times in the past, usually to throw off people on her trail. Hence, she knew how to arrange cans so that the moment the bullet ripped into them and, a few heartbeats later, the bits of shrapnel from the initially detonating cans ignited the others around them, the result would send shards of can refuse sailing through the air, breaking through the half shut door, and not only ripping through the shooter, but also through the one covering the closed door-the one she had told Jam to shut on purpose so that an assassin would be covering it and in the path of the debris.

However, she had one final "trick" tied to this trap. She had taken a chance in the placement of where the canisters were set, hoping that not only would an assassin with a high powered weapon would try to get her from his current position, but would also fire at just the right angle. And it seemed her assessment was correct.

The bullet that had been fired continued to shoot through the air once it punctured the cylinders and the wall behind it, went through the rainy sky outside, and tore through the left pectoral region of one of the snipers on the roof. It wasn't enough to kill her outright, but the sudden shot causing her to spasm and stumble forward, then fall out of the window to the ground below, did so a moment later on landing on her neck.

Yet none of the surviving assassins noticed that. Both those on the roof as well as Jam on the first floor cried out and dove for cover as a blast ripped through half of the second floor. Part of the ceiling erupted from shards of debris and plumes of smoke and fire, and in the main barber shop pieces of ceiling rained down on the inside, causing Jam to yelp soon after having dropped her last opponent and then made the chef run for cover. Smoke belched out through the previously covered and blacked-out upper floor windows. No fire was along with it. The blast had been too sharp and sudden to cause that. But the eruption served to stun those who were watching this outside, wondering what on Earth had just happened: if Rage had blown herself up rather than be executed, or if this was something else like a booby trap.

However, the largest one on the roof recovered the fastest. He straightened up and looked to the wake of what had just transpired; how the second floor had just been partially annihilated and how eruptions that had blown holes through the roof had nearly taken out some of them as well. Yet in the wake of the blast, he saw that openings had been made both in the ceiling of the second floor as well as the floor…

Back in the barber shop, a few last bits of ceiling debris fell and the cloud of dust that resulted began to mix with the ambient moisture and slowly fall to the ground. As it did, Jam, huddled in the alcove with the hair-drying chairs, slowly straightened up and looked around. Coughing a bit, waving the mist away from her head with one hand, she looked about at the wake of what had just happened. While the ceiling in a good part of the barber area was a wreck and some debris was still falling, the area looked clear for the moment. She began to turn her head back to the alcove itself. Two of the drying chairs were uncovered, but she looked to the two that were still covered with plastic tarp to block hair…

Yet before she could advance toward it, a second crash resounded behind her: clearly something large and heavy smashing through the ceiling. She swung around, and was just in time to see a large Native American with a pair of weapons that looked like a mix of hand axes and tomahawks peel back and fling one right for her, followed closely by the other.

Jam barely had time to react. As large as the man was, he moved quickly, and her normal posture of getting up on one leg to mount a defense or offense cost her as she quickly sprung onto one, got a leg up, and lashed out to kick away the first axe on the side of the blade. The next one, however, was too close behind, and she was too caught off guard and stressed to aim her next kick properly. She lashed out, but hit it edge-side, driving the weapon partially into her foot's soft flesh and making contact with the bone. An eruption of blood fountained out behind the weapon, and she quickly cried out and recoiled. On putting her foot down and trying to put any weight on it, more pain flooded it, along with blood running from the wound and into her shoe. By instinct, she quickly hobbled back up and aimed her leg in the air, yet before anything even happened she knew that was bad. She couldn't brace herself on the hurt leg, but neither could she fight as effectively with one.

She couldn't defend herself at all a moment later when the burly man rushed up to her, following right behind his thrown weapons, and lashed out to smash her in the face with a fist. It could have knocked her out or worse if she had been a normal human or a minor magic, and her head snapped back like a ball on a string as she was knocked right out of her battle pose and backward. She nearly collapsed all together on touching down on her bad leg, but she only had a moment to straighten herself before the assassin was on her again, this time smashing her in the stomach with a blow that knocked the wind out of her. The chef's eyes bulged as she hunched over, stunned again, and this unfortunately let the assassin move in. Immediately, he shot past her, putting out an arm and grabbing her shoulder, twisted to the back of her body, and then put her neck into a crushing headlock, the kind that was designed to cut off the major arteries. The fact that Jam was already gasping for air and stunned left her unable to do anything to stop this, save twist her head to preserve the artery going to her brain. But even then, with the wind knocked out of her and gagging for air, it was all she could do to seize the arm and struggle to pry it loose.

Once the larger figure had her in this position, he immediately tightened, using both arms to do so while moving one of his feet out to try and knock Jam's legs underneath her, getting her to lose her footing. With his power, he was clearly looking to either pinch off the blood flow to her brain, suffocate her, or, barring all that, snap her neck. All three looked equally likely as the chef struggled. Yet she had no leverage and her opponent was bigger and stronger. This was already a foregone conclusion.

There was only one solution she could think of. A bit crude…and gross…but she had the flexibility for it, his own clothing was more "native" and therefore loose enough for it, one of her masters had taught her to use it as a last resort, and she had nothing else. Grimacing, she shot her hand down, reached the thin fabric over his package, seized the area and gave the hardest twist she could manage.

"Ah-AAAH!"

The muscular man bellowed a roar and loosened his grip just enough for Jam to quickly twist her head to one side with her other arm and got out, quickly slipping free and putting herself in between him and another one of the hair driers. However, she had barely snapped back around to him when she saw he was already recovered, and cocking back another fist to smash her in the face. Again, he had moved so fast she barely had time to react to it…

When a "rope" of blond hair lashed out, wrapped around his fists as it came forward, and redirected it so that it smashed down through the hair-drying machine instead. Thanks to his power, it didn't matter that it was made out of durable materials-his hand smashed right through anyway and into the machinery. He cried out again, having obviously damaged some knuckles and torn up his hand doing that. However, as Jam, shocked by this, backed up, he looked to the "rope" that had redirected his hand and saw it back up, only to look a bit beyond and see another strand of hair pulling one of the hoses from the hairwashing stand, bring it around, and aim it at him.

He only had a moment to gape before the water was turned on and poured over him and the machine, causing the sound of electricity, the smell of burning, and the sound of him screaming a moment before he seized from the charge as the intense current running through the hair drier was transformed to make the simple station into a veritable electric chair. It continued to spray him for about ten full seconds. Someone as big as him might have survived it…but if he did, that would remain a mystery. As soon as the water cut off, by now the discharge having caused black score marks to appear on the wall, he collapsed to the ground in a heap.

Jam, in spite of her bleeding leg and the narrow scrape with death, gazed in shock for a moment both at him and the situation. That had been the most violent, abrupt few moments of her life. However, she didn't have long to gape. As the water continued to run, debris kept settling, and the hair drier sparked a few times, the hair holding the hose went limp and then sloughed off the source.

"Come on…" She heard in a grunt from one of the chairs. "That only bought us…a couple moments…"

The chef continued to be still a moment, but then turned to who she had heard speak. Namely one of the covered chairs. The drying stations were all the kind that had high armrests. Combined with the drying "hood" coming over them, they were good enough to actually conceal someone behind them. Now, as Jam reached out and snatched the cover off of one, she saw the rather pale form of Millia Rage lying almost limp underneath it, her dressing on her arm tied but bloodstained. At least it didn't look like fresh blood…at least, not really…

Jam continued to shake and swallow for a moment. She began to regret ever having run into this assassin. Things were going from bad to worse…

"I said come on… Can you still carry me with one of your legs injured?"

The younger woman almost questioned how Millia was able to see that with her head covered. But she figured it must have been transparent enough at close range. How else was she able to help her just now? She nodded.

"Then move. I said that would only stall them a few moments… We need to get to safety…out of the city and to Berlin…"

Jam hesitated on hearing that, giving a bit of a frown. "You know, you being so eager to get to Berlin in the first place is kind of what got us into this…"

"Do you want to live or want to argue? We only took out eight of them…!" The Russian managed to snap. "Now get those rags and light them up!"

Jam, being sharply ordered, reacted rather quickly. She soon moved over to the magazine table on the side of Millia, where she had preset a collection of drying towels, all dirty, and sprayed them with more of one of the flammable aerosols. She gathered them together as well as a book of matches that had been left in the lost in found inside one of the bits of apparel that had been left behind. Striking one, she held it over one end. In spite of the moisture in the air, it caught rather readily and began to flame up.

"Now toss it into the supply room, grab me, and run out of here as fast as you can." Millia stated. "Hopefully those two are still on the roof…"

The chef paused on hearing this even as the rags flamed up more. "Wh-what?!"

"We don't have a choice! The explosion should attract crowds or police officers at least and they'll be forced to run for it…and the eruption should cover our escape…"

Jam swallowed again, but still did as she was told. She was already shaking all over from the people she had helped kill. It didn't matter that they were trying to kill her at the time. She was scared to death none the less… Finally, sucking it up, she managed to round the corner, open the door to the supply closet, throw the fiery cloth in on one of the shelves with cleaners, and then burst out and rushed over to Millia. Soon, she began to help her onto her back, although rather slowly, both for her sake as well as her own.

"I'm really, really regretting ever going after that Gear now…"

"Just get me to Berlin and it'll all be over…" Millia answered. "Everyone who's gotten a good look at you so far is dead, with any hope… Now hurry…that blast could still kill us too…"

* * *

Far from being a bloodthirsty beast, the blue-haired woman was letting out only a small whimper as she wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to cover her back, and shrinking away at the sound of each collision of weapons.

"S-S-Stop…p-p-please…" The Gear whined softly.

Sol managed to hear this but shut it out. He didn't really have the time to worry about the Gear's crying. Right now, he was trying to push his advantage on the Japanese man. Having already taken too much from him on top of his injuries, now was no longer a question of trying to take the man out directly. To do so would either take too long in his current state or would require "loosening his headband" again, as he had with Justice. Against a Command Gear like her was one thing. Against a guy like this he might turn him into a bloody smear along with Chipp and whoever else he heard fighting in the outer vestibule. He was using a different strategy instead now.

The bounty hunter was advancing rapidly on the Japanese man, putting more speed into his moves rather than raw strength. Keeping the Fireseal in his more comfortable "underhand" grip, he swung it up and around in a hammering blow, battering it down on his opponent. He responded by crossing the Zessen up in front of him and intercepting the hit by spreading out the fans, but Sol answered by twisting the sword around and trying an "uppercut" type slash next, forcing the grip of his opponent to change around and quickly intercept that again. He battered away at him two more times, hitting him strong and fast and forcing him to keep retreating, back along aisles their fighting had already knocked over, with the intent of tripping him. To keep things going, as he spun out of one slash, Sol launched himself at the man again, twirling his body around and lashing out with a pair of kicks aimed for his face and neck. Again, his opponent was forced to bring up the fans to block against this, yet the impact still drove him back.

The goal of these attacks was simple: use the fact that, even now, Sol's stamina was far better than that of his opponent and wear him down. Yet as he continued to hammer away at him, he began to come to an unfortunate conclusion. This man may have not been a warrior, but as a professional dancer he had all the stamina of one. And while his strategy might have worked against any other opponent with any other weapon, the Zessen fans negated all of the power in each of his blows. There was barely any impact transmitting through to the man on the other side. The only real source of strain he could have gotten was from trying to keep his footing, and, to his displeasure, being a dancer there was little chance of that happening.

As Sol brought his blade down again in another hammering chop, trying to at least catch the arms off guard, the Japanese man suddenly shifted to one fan and held it up, collapsing it and bracing it overhead. Much to the bounty hunter's displeasure, he actually managed to stop it just with the one. The other, however, rapidly collapsed and swung down and around so quickly a golden blur went out, and the man realized he was going to try and sweep his legs. Quickly, before they could make contact, Sol broke off his attack and leapt backward. Again, to his displeasure, the dancer answered by whipping out both fans and quickly swirling around in a circle, again employing a dance move to give him farther reach, and then advanced with both fans flashing out for his chest. He had actually managed to turn the tables on him, and soon Sol was retreating while he smacked away any fan that got too close with the Fireseal, trying to get back and away from the others.

His eyes narrowed a bit as his brows raised.

"Interesting…" He murmured, still not even breathing too hard. "You seem like…you're trying to avoid being touched by the Zessen…"

Sol's only response was to leap backward, gaining some distance on the latest swipe of the fans, and then swing his own blade out to the floor. At once, the vents on the blade ignited, and a blast of flame enveloped the sword for a moment before a curtain of fire erupted from the tip and across the floor. The Gear let out a cry of alarm on seeing the fire, but the Japanese man was the one who showed visible shock. His eyes widened before he backpedaled. After all, the fans wouldn't help him here in terms of blocking. Yet more to Sol's pleasure, he brought them down and instinctively tried to blow the fire back from the gusts of wind.

The bounty hunter seized on this, quickly dashing forward and brandishing the Fireseal again. Just as the wave of fire died down, he was on the dancer. He looked up and spotted him, but Sol was already swinging his blade out at him while he was still off guard. He raised the Zessen to defend, but Sol connected and kept pushing into the blow, ending up shoving it to one side. Still moving, he quickly snapped the blade around and shoved the other fan out the other way, all while still advancing, keeping the man from fully getting his bearings and countering. A moment later, the bounty hunter leapt and aimed another kick for him, and soon after struck the center of his chest hard.

This alone made Sol irritated again. He had been aiming for closer to the neck region, but even now the dancer had managed to react to him long enough to step forward and cause his kick to hit lower. Not to mention his foot power wasn't as good as him with the blade, and he was still weakened from earlier. Yet nevertheless, the blow had been intended to try and put him down, and the impact actually echoed through the chamber before the power knocked the man off of his feet and sent him into a violent tumble. Skilled as he was, dancing wasn't an "impact sport", and he actually sprawled out a bit as he was sent back head over heels, rolling away from the bounty hunter.

Sol, as soon as he touched down, began to move after him again. The Japanese man nearly went flat on his back, which would have given him all the time he needed to end the fight, but somehow managed to land in a squat. Even so, he clearly looked in pain from the last blow, and had he been equipped with anything else, Sol's next follow-up strike would have finished him. He didn't bother trying to swipe him from underneath, as he knew by now that his opponent would use that as leverage to try and knock himself back up into a standing position. Rather, he twisted his sword around and slammed it down on him again. He anticipated (correctly) that he would bring up his fans to intercept, so he hit them at an angle, again pushing into them to try and wrench his arm and balance off and leave him open. It didn't work quite that way. Although it showed more visible strain on his face, perhaps even a bit of pain, the Japanese man brought up both collapsed fans, crossed them, and somehow managed to hold. However, he had to overexert himself to do it. That left him perfectly open for a follow-up kick to the side, digging deep into the space between his ribs and soft innards. Although the man again used the blow to knock him to one side and roll out of the way, the bounty hunter saw the pain flood his face from what had to have been a shot to the kidneys. That had been a good hit, and it made him spill to one side. Again, he tried going into a roll, but between his large fans, his pain, and his growing toll on his stamina and strength, he was clearly not as fast as before, and again the bounty hunter went after him.

In a desperation move, Sol saw the Japanese man, while still coming out of his roll, snap a hand up and throw one of the Zessen as a spinning disk once again. Yet he was ready this time. As it neared and he continued to charge, he raised the Fireseal and held it steady for a moment…at least, to most onlookers. In reality, he was giving it a rhythmic "twirling" perfectly in time with the approaching harmonic motion of the incoming fan. It connected with it, and he kept it steady, not trying to deflect it or move it out of the way as he charged, and a moment later it toppled off of his blade all together. His opponent registered visible shock before Sol put both hands on his sword, reached him, and then swung down with all of his might.

With only one fan to defend himself with this time, he tried to raise it to block, and it _did_ absorb a lot of the raw power in Sol's swing…but not enough, given his condition, still squatted on the ground and weakened from blows, to keep from having his arm wrenched down to one side, his fan overextended and pinned for a brief moment. Not giving him a chance to react and pull the limb back, Sol's right foot came up and thrust out into his chest. It wasn't meant for a true kick this time, but it still had more than enough power to throw the man back out of his squat, flatten him to the ground, and then put his foot on him to press him down. To his shock, he realized Sol had him "right where he wanted him". His one arm was overextended, his body was pinned so he couldn't use his agility to snap loose, and in the moment it took for him to recover to get out of this the bounty hunter would already have him.

And that was exactly what Sol looked to do as he snapped the Fireseal off of the Zessen long enough to bring it up and ready to drive it down into his opponent.

"No…please…don't…!" Sobs came from the Gear at the back of the cathedral, seeing Sol was moments from killing him.

Sol didn't bother explaining to her he only planned on rendering him too wounded to even stay conscious for three days, but as it turned out it didn't matter. Right before he could strike, he could feel something in the air. A change about him. Something was coming from behind.

In a flash, he aborted his attack, swung around, and sliced out with the Fireseal toward an object that was incoming straight for him. He barely had a moment to register that he cut cleanly in half nothing more than a simple coin, before a flashing object in black came up behind it, elbow first, and smashed it into his face.

Such a blow would have barely made his head snap back normally. But after getting hit with the Zessen fans more than once and getting progressively more tired of fighting, not to mention the blow that struck him was neither from an average human nor a slouch at combat, and he was knocked clean off of the Japanese man. Still, he managed to hold onto his bearings enough to see the dancer quickly snap to his feet. He was a bit crude in doing so, not popping back up like a normal fighter or warrior might, but he still composed himself rather quickly and used the moment to go dashing for the fallen Zessen fan.

Sol tried to stop him, of course. As he got his footing again, he quickly turned to the Japanese man, meaning to go after him. But he didn't even manage a step before a blade shot out between him and his intended target. Following it along to its hilt, he found it in the hand of the individual who had to have struck him a moment ago: a powerful, muscular man in black giving him a slight smile beneath a set of shades.

"You're as impressive as the law men make you out to be, Sol Badguy." He stated. "That hit I just gave you should have dropped a normal man or even a low-level magic. You don't look like I did more than 'ruffled your feathers' a bit. Good timing on me being here, I guess. If I don't take you out today, it's only a matter of time before my bounty gets so high you bust me yourself, after all."

Sol nearly went for it anyway but he paused both on recognizing this man as well as his posture. The individual was the pirate known only as "Johnny". One of the most notorious criminals in the world. He would have gone after him before now if most of his crimes weren't "altruistic" in nature…and he had a chance of finding him considering his command of an airship. But he wasn't any minor opponent himself. Not nearly as bad as Ky…not quite as bad as someone like Millia Rage…but considering his condition, enough to be a problem in his own right. And unlike his other opponent, this one didn't make mistakes.

As for the Japanese man, he soon had his fan and turned around again, extending both and getting into a ready position. However, he paused a moment to look to his savior. Johnny, on his part, never turned to him.

"Don't read too much into that, friend. Simple strategy. I couldn't hope to beat Sol Badguy on my own at the best of times. You, on the other hand, look far simpler. So I help you knock him out, then we fight it out over who gets to take the Gear."

"Wh…what?" The voice of the Gear rang out in surprise, obviously still paying attention to all this even if they weren't paying much attention to her.

Sol heard it himself, but ignored it. "…And what would the captain of the Jellyfish Air Pirates want with a Gear?"

"That's for me to know and you to lose sleep trying to find out." Johnny smiled.

The bounty hunter suppressed a frown. He was already in bad shape, and now he had a fresh opponent combining with the other. He only hoped they weren't too good working together. Yet he had little time to prepare any other defense before Johnny dashed straight at him.

Sol responded by flashing out with the Fireseal, wanting to hopefully use his slower movements and reflexes relative to the Japanese man to take him out faster. Unfortunately, his opponent was fresh and not a slouch, and he managed to stop on a proverbial dime and leapt back, letting the flaming weapon hit only air, before his own sword flashed out as he darted back in, trying to hit an opening. Sol quickly lowered his blade again and managed to intercept it, but that block left him open as the first man risked tossing a Zessen at him again. Seemed he was smart enough to know when Sol was leaving himself open by keeping his blade incapacitated. The only move he could make was shooting his head back and away to avoid getting struck by it. Unfortunately, Johnny was hoping for something like that, and used his own leverage and Sol's weakness to push his blade to one side and then rapidly slash out again. This cut was too close, and although the bounty hunter moved back, he felt a slice of hot pain go across one of hits sets of knuckles grasping the Fireseal. That move had been made to try and incapacitate an arm, and even without hitting the mark it weakened his grip…

Quickly, the pirate pressed his advantage. He may have not been as nimble as the Japanese man, but that was relative compared to the speed of most men who had size and muscle on their side. His sword flashed out like light again and again as he struck at Sol, advancing on him, using his pain and being off guard to push him back further and further. He was trying to keep the bounty hunter off balance, Sol knew. However, he let him for the time being. When the Zessen returned to the first opponent, he tried to keep up with him, but so long as Johnny was hammering away he didn't give the dancer much of an opening in edgewise.

Finally, Johnny came in with a thrust for his middle. Tightening his grip with his good hand, Sol removed his bad one and swung his fatter blade around, deflecting the thrust to one side, and then spinning his body and lashing out with a kick for the man's face, meaning to stun him and allow a counterattack. Yet he managed to catch a wider grin on the pirates face before he held up an arm to block it, but also to push off of it and to one side. Sol realized too late that Johnny had to be used to fighting in "tandem", and by doing so he got himself out of the way, letting the Japanese man advance, sweeping his fans up, and then swinging them down. While Sol tried to pull his overextended leg back in time, he couldn't avoid it fast enough and got tagged by the fan on one leg. It would have only been a clubbing blow normally, but Sol's nature made it feel like he had gotten struck with a cattle prod.

He put the leg down, now numbed by the hit, struggling not to show pain, but it had slowed him further, allowing Johnny to slice out again; this time from the side. He put up the Fireseal to block, but now both weakened and unable to brace himself on that leg, the weapon got deflected, and the pirate moved in quickly to try and add a punch to the face. Sol somehow managed to push himself off with his good leg, but unable to balance well on the other, the move was slow as he dodged, leaving him open for the other who moved in with the fans. While the Zessen were definitely the deadlier weapon here, Sol realized he had yet another disadvantage when he realized Johnny's sword was just as lethal in the hands of an expert like him. He couldn't afford to "take" hits from that any more than the fans, and unfortunately now it had led him to be in range of the Japanese man as he whirled around, this time extending them. He had to mostly stumble back this time, but still was unable to avoid another slice across his opposite arm. It wasn't anything more than a scratch but that was a relative term as he felt an icy, aching numbness radiate through his arm…

Not able to get a second of breathing room, Johnny quickly dashed for him again. Sol realized he couldn't get anywhere fighting defensively. With that in mind, he moved his blade in an upward cut, pushing out some fire into it this time, to try and stop his advance early. Unfortunately, the pirate showed his skill again by flicking out another of those coins seemingly from nowhere, intercepting his slash and then quickly dropping into a slide, using the slick tile of the floor, to try and kick out his still-bad leg from under him. He sidestepped this, quickly pivoting to one side, but the Japanese man was soon on him again. Recovered from his own blows, he began to swirl around and advance with all the speed and grace of an expert dance, flashing his fans out at him again and again. Once more, Sol was put totally on the defensive as he put both of his hands on the hilt again, deflecting each one as best as he could. It wasn't for the sake of power but for aim. Since he couldn't disarm the man through power alone, he had to deflect him to hopefully get him to overspend his power. But even now, the Japanese man was too skilled and poised, too experienced with proper strength management…

In an attempt to fend him off, Sol started putting more of his power into the Fireseal, letting flames erupt with each clash between the sword and the fans. The fire did get the Japanese man to lessen his attacks, but it wasn't enough to break him off. Furthermore, the power of the fans had "dulled" his own magic ability, and in his current restricted state it was doing more harm than good. Also, although the Japanese man might not have been experienced enough to fight with a partner, Johnny was and he frequently used every apt opportunity to lunge in with a stab or a slash. He only waited for "good ones" too; ones where Sol might have been able to seize an advantage to put down the Japanese man. As both were pressing in more and more, they were also pushing him back further to the remaining pews and the stone side of the cathedral on the other side. Even with his leg losing the numbness, it was only a matter of time before he faltered.

It finally happened when the Japanese man collapsed both fans and moved in, swinging them both like a pair of batons, one after another. Sol quickly swung his own blade to intercept the first, and normally he would have shoved it aside to leave his opponent open to a counter-strike before they could even manage their follow-up strike. But it didn't work so well this time. Even quickly overextending himself, the Zessen fans absorbed most of his impact, and he only managed to slightly shove the opponent away. He had to move his weapon back into position to block the follow-up hit, but he didn't get the chance. Abruptly, Johnny darted out with his own blade…not to counter but rather to intercept Sol's weapon and keep it from getting into position, leaving him open. The bounty hunter only had a moment to realize that the pirate had picked up the fans were hurting him worse than anything else before the collapsed fan came around and slammed him in the middle. In spite of his tight muscle and how it seemed as if he should have shrug it off as nothing, he actually felt his strength sap as a painful blow radiated through him. It was enough to make him hunch over…

And that was all Johnny needed to whip his arm back and then lash out with a kick right to his face.

 _I can't recall the last humans who've hurt me this much other than Ky…_ Sol thought for a moment before pain rocked his head, and the sheer power of the pirate captain was actually enough to knock him back and off of his feet again. Even in his weakened state, that was no small feat. It was enough to rip him back a few steps, then leave him to stumble in reverse until he smashed into a candle vestibule for votive offerings. The impact was actually hard enough to smash through it, spilling them everywhere, and back into the statue of the saint beyond, knocking it off and over the top of himself, before he faltered down to the floor.

A gasp from the Gear went mostly unheard of, as did the fact that she was looking more and more anxious and fearfully looking around the cathedral for signs of Testament. However, while Johnny held off for a moment after this, the Japanese man wasn't doing so. He quickly unfurled his fans and began to run up on Sol while he was momentarily down.

As for the bounty hunter himself, his head still wracked with pain, he had a decision to make in a hurry.

 _I've taken too many hits… Between the skill of the one and the weapons of the other, I can't beat them like this. I've got one other option, of course…but if I go out of control I may end up inciting the Gear and doing a lot more damage to_ everyone _, myself included. Still, I really don't think I have a choice anymore._

Quickly, Sol reached up with one of his bleeding hands and placed it on his own headband. He knew he had to pull just right. Too little and there'd be no change. Too much…and it wouldn't be pretty. To think he actually had to do this with "normal" humans. He gave it a tug soon after…

A moment later, both Zessen fans were over him and the Japanese man was bringing them down. He wasn't sure if he was aiming to injure or kill, but it didn't really matter in either case as he wasn't skilled enough at attacking yet to differentiate. He was just trying to strike while the striking was good, in spite of his intention to become more "knowledgeable" by asking him questions. He knew he might not get another chance if he gave Sol a chance to recover…

Yet as both weapons came down, an eruption of fire suddenly ignited beneath them, before both were deflected upward.

The face of the Japanese man registered pain as well as surprise as his arms were forced back up into the air. This was the first time one of Sol's attacks had managed to force him away, apparently overriding the ability of his fans to absorb the impact. He quickly swung them back down in a shield in front of himself, and it was a good thing too. Because Sol didn't bother "playing nice" this time. He had scarcely deflected the fans up when the Fireseal drove straight for the Japanese man's chest. If he had been using any other weapon, he never could have gotten it back in front of him in time to block. As it was, when he brought the Zessen before him, the blade smashed into them hard, shoving them in so abruptly on the tip of the blade that it still managed to drive a sharp bruise into his chest, all the while knocking him back again, soon hitting him away the same way Sol was struck aside a moment earlier. Only unlike him, he couldn't keep his footing and soon toppled back on the ground.

Johnny's smile faltered on seeing this, and he quickly raised his sword to prepare to counter…only to find Sol was not already up and standing, but surging right at him. In fact, he barely had time to bring his sword even in front of him before the Fireseal collided with his blade, and even then he grit his teeth as he felt pain radiate through his limbs before he too was cast back by the bounty hunter's raw power.

Yet Sol didn't let up here either. He immediately dashed after him, and if Johnny hadn't already managed to land on the ground and get his footing, he would have been an easy target. As it was, the eyes behind the sunglasses widened before he ducked to one side, letting the flaming blade shoot by, lopping off the end of his coat, before shattering the tiled floor and cutting a rift into it where he was. He quickly rolled back a moment later, sweating a bit now, as Sol seemed to move like a blur and swing his blade out to try and catch him from the side. The pirate's face started to turn to fear as he quickly leapt back. He tried to raise his blade to intercept, but the impact with the Fireseal was so strong that it nearly knocked it clean out of his grip. Even so, he felt a painful wrench to one of his wrists, almost spraining it… Realizing he couldn't fend off the sword directly, he quickly backslid to try and gain more distance on Sol.

As he did, however, he caught a glimpse of the man's face, and what he saw both confused and unsettled him. The bounty hunter no longer looked like his normal calm and controlled self. Instead, he had a grin of his own on his face, one where Johnny swore he could see _teeth_ poking out, and his eyes seemed to almost have a red tint to them…

He lunged at the pirate again, this time lifting his sword over his head. The man in black managed to realize that he was getting forced against some of the pews that had been knocked about, and quickly spun and darted off to one side, risking giving his back to Sol so that he could get more distance. But even then, he was soon struck, for as the bounty hunter brought down his blade where he was, it was charged with such heat and power that it not only cleaved through the pews as easily as if they were made of tissue paper, but the fire magic seemed to spread "into" them…and a moment later they turned into charred black objects before _exploding._ Flaming fragments burst everywhere, scattering throughout the entire interior of the cathedral, and one managed to peg Johnny in the back of his shoulder. His coat kept him from being burned, but he still cried out as he went to the ground.

Sol nearly went after him, his eyes lighting up like a predator with prey, when, instead of lunging, he suddenly leapt into the air…easily dodging a Zessen fan that had been flung at him. By now, the Japanese man was up, and he reacted in some surprise to see that Sol dodged his latest attempt to throw a fan at him at the last moment. However, even more shocking was when Sol seemed to be able to manipulate his own body in mid air. Although he had jumped straight up, his body was now arching and lunging for the dancer with a wild look. He reacted in surprise, but then quickly braced himself and brought his remaining fan up, while keeping a hand out to try and reclaim the first when it came back. A moment later, the Fireseal connected, but this time the Japanese man cried out in pain as fire and sparks rained over him, his arm was wrenched and brought down, and he actually stumbled almost to one knee. Even with the Zessen taking a lot of the power, it wasn't enough to keep him unharmed. And once faltered, Sol landed on the ground and quickly thrust himself forward, driving his knee toward him in a follow-up blow. The first fan returned and, somehow, he had enough bearings to bring it in front of him, but he still cried out from the impact as the blow went through the fan, smashed into him, and knocked him back. His body toppled over multiple pews from the raw force, smacking first his ankles, swiveling around, and then smacking his head before he collided to the ground. Now, sore, bruised, and beaten, the dancer only slowly began to pick himself up again.

But Sol was already snapping to the next closest threat rather than finishing him. Johnny had just managed to get himself up enough to try and respond when he found the bounty hunter rushing at him. Soon, he was darting back again, struggling to stay out of the range of the swinging blade. Even so, the first strike alone cut a lapel from his coat. He tried to stop the second swing by using his coin trick, but flicking it out did little. The sword sliced right through it and nearly cut into his chest. He was sweating now as he continued to come at him. He didn't dare try to block or counter now. His wrist was still smarting from the first time he tried. Deep in the pirate's mind as he saw his chances of being able to defend against Sol decrease, he began to realize that his hopes that the stories about the might of the bounty hunter were exaggerations were ill-founded.

And as this went on, none of the fighters noticed another change.

The Gear, at this point, was holding her hands tightly around herself. She cringed and whimpered as she struggled to back up further away, up the stairs toward the mane nave. Yet this wasn't an act of self-soothing or "giving herself a hug". As her eyes began to fill with tears at the sight of the blood and heard the crying out of pain and hurt, and her own memories began to bubble to the surface, she looked more like she was trying to hold something in. In fact, her arms were reaching around as much as they could to her back, as if trying to restrain them from there…

As weapons continued to clang, she kept crying out in vain, although her own fear and anxiety was keeping her from even being audible now.

"Stop…stop…please…stop…I'm scared…I'm scared…"

Underneath her clothing, her right shoulder appeared to swell before receding. The young woman paled and shut her eyes.

"No, I don't want to… I don't want to!"

The shoulder surged again.

"I am not! Stop calling me that! Undine, help me!"

The left shoulder swelled a bit, but the right one seemed to swell more than before, as if angry. It only made the young woman tremble more as a length of black flesh with a yellow ribbon on it began to extend beneath her dress.

"Stop! Stop fighting! I hate this! Why is everyone always fighting?"

As her shoulders continued to swell and ripple beneath her clothes, the clashes continued to ring out. Johnny was forced to defend himself at last, only to nearly have his sword broken as the Fireseal smashed into it, and him, and batted him away like a club. By now, the Japanese man had gotten to his feet although he didn't try to fight again, only for Sol, his look more and more ravenous and "devilish" all the time, to snap his weapon around and send a wave of fire at him. Quickly, the dancer reacted and spread the Zessen fans in front of him; only for Sol to shoot forward like a rocket and swing his fist into his face. Once again, the man managed to bring up the broad side of a fan in the way, and that was likely the only reason the fist didn't crush his skull as he snapped back like he had been smacked by a racket. The attacks were getting stronger.

Yet as Sol turned, his teeth showing now and _definitely_ looking sharper, toward Johnny, who by now was too sore to even rise to response, and the pirate looked back at him fearfully…something interrupted the battle.

A loud crash rang out as the doors to the chapel were smashed in. A moment later, Chipp, looking rather roughed up and bloody, went flying through the entryway and smashed down onto the tile floor. He went for a rather violent tumble that messed him up even more than before, but somehow he managed to roll out into a squat. He was panting hard and swallowing.

Moments afterward, the pale and imposing figure of Testament, again seeming to "skate on air", slid for the opening, scythe at the ready, not looking too terribly shaken up or beaten aside from a bit winded, and glaring at him with a fierce stare.

"You can take more than a few hits and actually keep up with me a little, but that's all. And I'm not going to let you waste any more time of mine, boy."

The ninja brought his blade in front of him and held on, but the fact of the matter was Chipp was in a lot of pain now. He was mostly "running on fumes" as it was. His vision was starting to blur and his existing cuts both stung and seemed to sap the life from him when inflicted by Testament's weapon. It was remarkable that a non-member of the Sacred Order had actually managed to stay alive one-on-one with a Gear like Testament for so long, but that thought was cold comfort when Chipp realized he had just about used the last "ninja trick" in his repertoire and that the Gear still had power to spare. He didn't really risk a look behind him, but he hoped Sol was finished with his end.

However, Testament himself, on emerging, noticed that the chamber wasn't nearly as empty before. He actually registered surprise on looking up…having not heard the chaos before in the wake of the chapel behind them, which even now was so heavily damaged it was literally falling apart: columns breaking off and sinking and bits of ceiling starting to collapse. He ignored that all, however, on seeing the situation.

"…What?"

Sol himself looked to Testament a moment, distracted from his prey. And in that moment, he quickly raised his hands and tightened his headband again. A moment later, the red light in his eyes died down and his lips went back over his teeth. He also felt heavy exhaustion and more pain begin to settle in, but he had no choice. He had loosened it too much before or was simply in too tired of a state to think clearly. He had begun to slip. He had started to think only of killing the two humans he was facing off against. If he had given into that bloodlust, he might have lost control completely. At any rate, soon he was thinking clearly again. The Japanese man was still struggling to rise, and Johnny himself quickly scrambled to his feet while he could, though he didn't dare renew his assault.

After a moment, Testament scowled. "And here I thought for a moment that the human couldn't possibly be trying to dupe me because there was no way the Frederick I know would work _that_ closely with a partner… I'll have you know I didn't try to spare you last time. I just didn't have time to 'finish the job' with more of those humans moving in. The fact that you're still standing amazes even me."

His scythe raised a bit more.

"But I'm getting a bit tired of running into you…"

"Hey!" Chipp suddenly spoke up, causing the Gear to turn his gaze down. "We aren't finished yet, and I thought you would have learned by now not to turn your back on a ninja."

"You must be…Testament…"

The other voice speaking not only got the attention of the Gear and Chipp, but also Sol as he turned his head slightly, just in time to see the Japanese man manage to pull himself fully back up and slowly get back into a pose.

"Well…this is practically an encyclopedia… The legendary member of the Sacred Order, Frederick, and the only two Gears on record… I'd rather die than let this chance pass me by…"

"No idea what _he's_ blabbing about…" Johnny spoke up from his position as he straightened and aimed himself at the new arrival. "But I still owe you for what you did to my first mate, not once but twice. Jellyfish Air Pirates stick together, and all that."

Sol looked around for a moment, but then looked back to Testament. He only needed to confirm he was no longer the man of interest. "You're strong, Testament, but assuming your wound didn't get partially ripped open again the last time we met, I can tell you ended up spending more of yourself than you cared against the ninja. And I'm not quite as weak as I look. Even if you can take me out, all three of these humans possess sufficient strength to exploit your openings and hurt you. And even if you _can_ beat the four of us, there's an entire battalion of IPF officers outside. Powerful as you are, even you don't have the energy for all of it. It'll take you everything you have to get free, and then you'll have nothing left to escape here with the girl."

Testament clenched his teeth and tightened his grip. "You should know by now, Frederick, that I'm willing to do _whatever_ is necessary for a cause. I _will_ protect the child. Besides…once you're gone, she'll have no real threats left. But even if that wasn't the case I don't care if I die so long as I keep a filthy human's hand from touching her again. Even death won't stop me from-"

"Stop…stop!"

Again, everyone paused and turned to who had spoken. This time, they were looking toward the altar of the cathedral. By now the Gear was almost fully backed into it, and clutching her sides harder than ever. Yet everyone present soon saw something unsettling. There was no mistaking it…huge lumps were moving underneath her dress, pulling and tugging at her clothes. All the while her head was bowed and she was crying.

"Don't say that, Testament…! I don't want you to die! I don't want to be alone!" She cried out before stiffening. "Stop…stop calling me…that…" She choked, quietly, but loud enough to hear in the cathedral.

Sol stared only a moment, but soon something in his peripheral vision got his attention.

Testament's face had changed. Where before it was bold, it had turned to concern…and anxiety.

"…What the hell is happening to her?" Chipp spoke up.

"You damn humans…" Testament hissed, whirling back to them. "Are you trying to kill us all? You just had to get in here and upset her, didn't you?!"

The ninja paused a moment, but then blinked and shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

"Her power isn't fully under her control!" The Gear retorted. "Because you damned monkeys abused her while she was developing, she split her consciousness into three distinct personalities! And one of them hates _everything_! Including other Gears!"

Sol again looked to the young Gear. It seemed he got his answer about who she was talking to earlier. However, as he watched her continue to struggle and mumble, he realized this was something far more severe than what people called "multiple personality disorder". She was a Gear, which meant she was brimming with magic power the likes of which no human could comprehend. Especially one like her who was superior even to Justice… It was likely that these were no longer separate "personalities" but were actually taking a form, similar to how the Forbidden Magics allowed an inanimate body part of aspect of a human to take a life of their own.

Yet in her case, she might have actually given them _physical_ form.

"…Ok, definitely don't want to pick a fight with something that kills other Gears." Johnny remarked, looking to the other two. "I don't know about you guys, but I think I may plan on a retreat for the time being. Just got to find a way to get to May…"

Abruptly, the front doors were knocked open by some sort of blunt force. The impact was so loud and sudden that it was enough to alert everyone, including the young Gear. It made her go still out of sheer surprise as she snapped her head up to the door, but already Sol could see her eyes had gone from a light brown to a red. Her true nature was still on the verge of coming out.

However, when Sol gave a look, he was a bit surprised to see what had been the source of the impact. He had assumed it would be another opponent being smacked aside by someone else, but of all the people who could be used as an involuntary battering ram, he was a bit stunned to see it was Ky, not looking in the best shape as he flew into the room and then toppled to the floor.

Yet no sooner had he landed than he quickly sprung back up again. He quickly drew his blade and looked in. It took him only a moment to assess the entire situation, before he exhaled and straightened up.

The girl responsible, looking rather sheepish, like she had just had an accident, ran in behind him, effortlessly holding her anchor over one shoulder, and gulping.

"…Or not." Johnny ended with a grimace.

"Er…sorry, Johnny." The first mate swallowed. "He kind of let me hit him in just the way to knock him through the doors…" Soon after saying this, May looked up to the back of the cathedral. As she did, the Gear looked up and made eye contact with her. For a moment, the two stared silently.

May opened her mouth, but then closed it again. She wasn't sure what to say. As for the Gear, she looked at her a moment, and then bowed her head. Her face tightened not in pain but sadness; as if regretting what she had done earlier.

"I suppose only a fool would say 'you're all under arrest' at this point, but you should keep in mind there are over 200 officers outside with much heavier weapons on their way much sooner than I would like." Ky stated after a moment. "So it's in all of your best interests to lay down your arms."

"Speak for yourself, Ky." Sol spoke up. "You have two Gears in here, and one of them is rather-"

"I don't want to hear it, Sol." The captain retorted sharply. "You had your chance to cooperate with me on this and I was willing to 'look the other way' as far as the law was concerned for once, and you threw it back in my face. Besides, there's no time for this now. All of you come with me."

Johnny snorted. "I think not. I don't exactly get along with the IPF…"

"And I'm not getting shoved into some cell between him…" Chipp pointed to Testament. "And him." He pointed to Johnny. "I'm still pissed at you, by the way."

"You'd be surprised how often I get that." The pirate shrugged.

"As if I would agree to something so ridiculous, human…" Testament hissed. "I don't care how many of you come at us. And if you keep agitating her you're going to wish you had never-"

"All of you, be quiet!" Ky suddenly snapped. The result caused the younger Gear to whimper and cringe again, and some of her bulges to swell. "Didn't you hear what I said? The military might be getting involved here! They're starting to do things over my head! There's enough firepower on its way here to turn this city and everything else in the district into a barren slab! Unless you'd all like to die, you have no choice but to do as I say!"

"And what exactly _do_ you 'say'?" Testament shot back. "You honestly expect me to trust the word of a human? Especially one I've already made a personal enemy of? I saw how your kind treats us when we're prisoners! How little you thought of this child! And you expect me to trust you?"

"He has a point, Ky." Sol responded.

"I didn't ask for your support." The Gear retorted.

"You're getting it whether you like it or not." The bounty hunter quickly answered before looking back to Ky. "What exactly is your 'master plan'? Hand her over to the IPF? Let her stay in a cell while they 'decide her innocence'? If you claim to not be a fool, Ky, you realize the only 'justice' the Gear will receive is some newly developed method of execution. And if she resists it will be a bloodbath that she'll never be deemed 'innocent' of."

Ky grit his teeth. "Have you not been paying attention lately, Sol? Have you not seen the world around you? This entire country is having more and more kindling piled on top of it that's simply waiting for a spark. And that spark will happen sooner or later so long as the Gear runs free. I said I want to give her a chance. I didn't say I'd let her do as she pleased until then."

"You?" Testament retorted. "The greatest murderer of our kind wants to treat a Gear like a human being?"

The captain didn't answer. He looked forward instead to the nave. However, on looking that way, Sol realized he paused. It was only for a moment, but it was distinct. On looking at the Gear, his face relaxed a moment, and his eyes seemed to widen a bit. The bounty hunter actually mused over this a moment. On one hand, he might simply have been out of sorts to see another female Gear after Justice…

Yet, on looking a bit closer, he began to suspect it was something else…

He snapped out of it soon enough, however. "I swear I won't let anyone hurt you, but you _have_ to come with me right now."

"Don't listen to him! He and the rest of his kind are liars!" Testament shot back.

"I disagree with about half of that." Johnny answered. "Humans, no. IPF…without a doubt." He looked to the Gear next. "Better off with me, pretty lady. After all, May and I are wanted too."

"Dizzy…I…" May started to say, trying to get something out, but then clammed up again. Although the Gear looked up to that on hearing her voice, the first mate couldn't finish. She bit her lip as if not sure what to say.

"She can go wherever you want, so long as I get answers first." The Japanese man spoke up as he unfurled both fans. "Gears or no, I've found out that these fans of mine are pretty good at killing you. Don't make me test them out to see if that's real."

"Get anywhere near her with those and I'll kill you." The older Gear hissed.

"And how is that any different from what you've been trying until now?" Chipp asked.

"I don't have time to hold back again, Testament." Sol stated as he raised his hand for his headband. "I'll just have to strike enough to take you and everyone else out."

"Hey!" May shouted, finding her voice. "You're not laying a finger on Johnny!"

"Two against quite the crowd," The pirate answered. "But since the rest of you are 'every man for himself' or currently indisposed…" He gestured to the Gear, Dizzy. "I like those odds."

"Close your eyes and back away." Testament coldly stated as he began to twirl his scythe, a caw ringing out as his bird fluttered in from the still-decaying chapel and started to fly near him, going into a "hover", if possible. "Cover your ears if you have to, but just get to the back. I'll take care of this."

"No…! Stop it! Stop it, all of you!" The Gear shouted. "I don't like this! I don't like fighting! I don't like dying! Why can't you all just _stop?!_ "

Ky sighed. "Is there no brain between the lot of you? Did you not hear…"

The captain trailed off. And not only him. Most of the others soon lost their irritation or growing tension at once. Even Testament paused in his movements, as did Dizzy toward the back. Soon, all of them instead began to look around and listen at the hall.

Abruptly, the chapel had begun to "rain down" a bit more, and that was causing quite a bit of noise. Yet that wasn't what had their attention. The entire cathedral was starting to tremble. It gave a low shudder at first, but it began to build in speed. Bits of dust rained from the ceiling as candlestands and cups began to rattle. They grew worse and worse until they fell over, as tiny rocks on the ground in the wake of the fighting began to shake and clatter. In spite of the heavy downpour outside thundering against the roof, a noise became audible. A great, thunderous "humming" which only grew louder and louder; like the world's largest industrial fans coming closer to their cathedral.

As those in the cathedral heard this, Ky began to grimace.

"They had better hold off like I told them to…"

"What the f*** is that noise?" Chipp spoke up.

"Oh…from the sound of it…" Johnny said with an increasingly anxious voice. "Just three _Kriegstreiber_ airships with…" He listened a bit longer. "Full payloads in place of the spare fuel tanks."

* * *

By this point, whatever officer wasn't holding their ground with extreme anxiety was thinking of bolting for it.

As dark and stormy as the morning skies were over Adalwolf, that was nothing compared to the shadow that fell over the city as three formidable looking airships began to descend around it, seeming to materialize out of the clouds. And considering the fact that their engines were causing resonance all over the city, from the smallest shack to the biggest establishment, there was no one who didn't notice their approach. And soon after, people began to look out of their homes and to the sky only to see the huge machines approaching, easily telling that they were neither passenger nor transport aircraft, but were armed with their cannons already aimed downward. That was enough to send the rest of the city into a panic. If there had been any secrecy left in the IPF maneuver, it was gone. Aside from the obviousness of the massive airships lowering, there was now shouting and panic throughout the rest of the city as people began to break out of their homes and flee for it. And seeing as the town was already full with the recent bounty hunter surge, that created no small amount of congestion.

What was even worse was the fact that the airships were even there, for that started to attract the hunters like a moth to a flame. They knew, as the rest of the city did, that no one just sent airships in for no reason, especially not three of them. That meant the Gear had to be here. Any moment now, the officers knew they'd have to contend with every fortune-seeking warrior in town flooding the area. And they themselves were all gathered in this one spot. There had been a reason Ky had been so meticulous, and now it was all falling apart.

As the airships came into a hover and adjusted their weapons, it wasn't long before all three had the bulk of their guns aimed at the cathedral itself, looking ready to simply level it and be done with it in a rather foolish attempt to "take the Gear with it". And Ky had left so abruptly that his second-in-command was nearly flustered and trying to both hold them off as well as decide whether or not the officers should pull back or stand their ground. After all, if the airships opened fire, then they were all within the "red zone". One could argue they wouldn't shoot with so many civilians in the area, but the fact they had even deployed to begin with…

"I've told you three times!" He shouted into the radio in German. No point in being quiet anymore. One could barely be heard over the engines. "Don't shoot! Captain Kiske said not to open fire! He's in the building!"

 _"_ _What is he doing in the cathedral?"_ The voice on the other end returned. _"The mission briefing said that you would only be stationed around the cathedral and confining the Gear to a single position."_

The officer blinked. "That wasn't our mission at all! We were supposed to move in on this location once we had the area secure and could confirm the Gear was inside!"

 _"_ _What was that? You're coming in garbled. Can you get to a dry location?"_

A groan. "Pull the ships out! You're causing a panic down here!"

 _"_ _We're here on direct order. The decision was made by the German government to switch to using firepower to minimize the loss of human life. Tell the captain and everyone else to pull back."_

"You're going to be destroying a lot more human life firing those weapons off around here! This isn't an armored installation! It's a cathedral, and we're all in a kill zone right now! Did you not hear what I'm saying? You're causing a panic! Civilians are running and any hunters in this city are coming this way!"

 _"_ _Your message is breaking up! Please lower your volume and speak distinctly!"_

"I said-"

The officer was cut off a moment later, and not only them but everyone else in Adelwolf for miles cringed and took cover. Nowhere more so, however, than at one of the peripheral roadblocks. For not far from that location, a rather large explosion went out that ripped through the entire bottom floor of a hair salon and caused the rest of the floor overhead to come crashing down. Soon, further panic and screaming began to escalate, exacerbated by the fact that no officers were nearby to deal with it. All were dealing with the Gear as the sound of the blast rang out long over the city…

"That blast came from Adelwolf!"

"Damnit, get off that horn with that idiot! All batteries open fire! Blow that Gear back to Hell!"

* * *

Within the cathedral, a new sound began to ring out over the humming of the engines. It sounded like some sort of device or, rather, multiple ones, warming up. Those gathered looked up a bit more at that.

"…Please don't tell me that's what I think it is." Chipp muttered.

"Oh sh't…everyone get into the center!" Johnny suddenly shouted, prompting May to quickly take off from the front of the cathedral and charge for the middle.

"Do as he says!" Ky shouted as he began to run in as well. "Stay clear from the wal-"

A moment later, what could only be described as a streak of yellow light burst through one of the stone walls, tore through diagonally, and blasted through the other side. A sound like thunder roared through the entire chamber as massive amounts of stone were shattered by the sheer impact and erupted as if an explosion had gone through them, sending building chunk pieces flying into the interior of the chamber. Those who weren't already on the ground cried out in shock and panic as they saw the result and instinctively dropped, including Dizzy far at the front. Another explosion went off outside a moment later as the shot impacted the side of the cathedral, the sheer force ripping through that section of the wall as well, breaking the statues of saints and blowing more building chunks into the chamber.

Yet this was merely the first shot of the first salvo, and soon further cannon shells burst into the cathedral, ripping apart the walls of the building on both sides in multiple angles. Two in particular shattered the dome above the main altar, ruining the delicate structure which kept the main steeple overhead supported. Soon after, it began to fall down, and on doing so snapped the rest of the stone arches clear and began to dump them down upon what was below. Dizzy looked up and her eyes widened in terror as she cried out, although the voice was instantly lost over the growing din. Testament himself, the only one still standing, tried to rush for her, but if he wasn't already too far to ever reach her in time, he was still thwarted as building beams and stone slammed down in his path, and a cannon shell shot down and impacted only a few feet in front of him a moment later. An eruption of fire and heat was sent out, making him vanish instantly. As for Dizzy, she cringed and shielded herself before the heavy stone rubble slammed down on top of her, burying her in an instant.

Outside, the shots continued to thunder one after another. One salvo alone was enough to decimate most of the cathedral, but the cannons continued to unload their full firepower afterward, exhausting every last gun. Even as the walls were brought down both in the main area and the back, and each of the steeples collapsed and sent up a cloud of dust in their wake, the cannons kept firing into the stone smoke; sending up more flaming lights and erupting through more and more of the structure. Whatever pieces of debris had already fallen, or, in some cases, were still falling, that remained intact, the cannon shots soon pulverized into smaller bits. The officers still in the area quickly began to pull back as fast as they could, for even the errant blasts were enough to send up pieces of stone, or even roadway, that could take off their heads. And in spite of their best efforts, a few of them still got struck and went down easily as the force of the shrapnel and blasts took out the surrounding buildings. All the way a chorus of noise and explosions went off, ringing throughout the entire city and sending out curtains of rain in all directions. While it was enough to make many of the incoming bounty hunters and mercenaries pause and recoil, the main effect was to send the city into an even greater panic than before as shockwaves rattled glass, sent tremors through the streets, and all-in-all caused more widespread fear and hysteria that now spread everywhere.

The cannon fire eventually stilled. The airships remained in position as they reloaded and let the barrels cool, but as the sounds of debris settling and explosion echoes slowly died down, the only thing left was the sound of rain falling and distant screams of panic. The officers who had taken cover were tending to whoever was still alive after being hit by debris, but the bulk of them were looking up to see the aftermath.

It didn't take long for the clouds to die considering the falling rain. It helped wash much of the dust clouds into the rest of the mud, muck, and rubble left in the way of the cathedral. And while it may have been blinding or a lung irritant, no one had to worry about chemical-laced building materials being used in the construction of the old edifice. A few walls were still standing as were a few columns, but it was a wreck. Nothing but a colossal pile of debris now. Some of the adjacent buildings had been damaged or even flattened by the walls, but the bulk of it was nothing more than tons of stone in the center. It would take months if not a year to clean up. Definitely if there were any people inside, it seemed they certainly would have had to have been annihilated. If this world had no magic that would be a certainty. As it was, the officers stared and waited.

Slowly, the sounds of rocks tumbling began to ring out. It started off sounding like just more debris, but as the people continued to look they noticed it was coming from the region where the main vestibule used to be and it wasn't just "loose stone". Not one but two large stone pieces, still mostly intact, liftws off of the ground. Nothing short of industrial equipment could have done that, but as they pushed up and knocked more refuse off of them, they only became more distinctive and noticeable until both those in the airships and those on the ground watched. Finally, they shifted and fell back due to gravity, tumbling off of the small mound and revealing a figure beneath them.

Her outer black dress was in tatters now. As she emerged from the rubble, a bit dirty but otherwise seemingly unmarked, it shredded off completely. It revealed a black strap attire that looked almost suited for a dominatrix underneath, barely concealing her mid-section and breast region. Her white, unfastened boots somehow stayed on, although a black length of flesh with a yellow ribbon tied to it now flicked about slowly around them, coming from her rear end. She had black flaps of fabric around her hips and forearm sleeves of white and black layered fabric held up by straps around her shoulders, and the long white sleeves seemed to puff around her forearms as she held her hands tightly around her still. Other than that, the only other feature was yellow ribbons tied into her blue hair, although none could see her face.

No one fired yet, for no one could tell if that was just a girl or the Gear they saw. Her black tail was hardly noticeable against her clothes, and none of them really expected a Gear that looked so "human".

Lost in the rain, as the girl struggled and grasped her sides, a soft voice rang out.

"…Go away."

Those on the airships tried to zoom in; tried to see more. Finally, one of them noticed the tail. The order was given to reload, but the cannons were still cooling.

"Leave me alone."

Those on the ground, in spite of the situation, suddenly called out. One cried in German that it was the Gear, having seen her tail. They quickly began to assemble themselves.

"Please…leave me alone…!" Now, it was growing audible enough to be heard.

Yet even those that heard paid no attention. After all, all they saw was a monster who had just walked out unscathed from the middle of an onslaught that would have destroyed an airship. Whoever had guns or projectile weapons leaned them up and aimed them. Orders began to be shouted: sharp, cold voices that the girl could hear…

Finally, Dizzy removed her hands from her sides and covered her face instead, but then bellowed in a voice that reverberated with magical force that not only the men on the ground or the airships heard…but everyone in the entire city.

 ** _"_** ** _LEAVE…ME…ALONE!"_**

At once, Dizzy's sides erupted and a pair of large, feathery wings burst out of them, expanding rapidly into large size. They weren't perfect "angel wings" by any means, however. For one thing, the wing on her left was an icy blue color rather than a pure white one would expect, while the wing on her right was a darker color; not quite black or green but something that looked the color of death and decay. Yet that wasn't the shocking part to all who saw her.

It was the fact that the icy blue wing's feathers seemed to melt and reform to make the bust of a beautiful, long-haired goddess, and the black feathers seemed to melt and reform to make the bust of Death in all of his skeletal, nightmarish glory.

It was enough to make the men pause. They had never seen such a thing. Even those who had lived through the Crusades had not. But it didn't last. They only appeared a moment before fading again, once more sinking into being feathers, and the two new appendages just wings. As for the girl, she continued to cup her hands in her face and hunch over. After a moment, one of the higher officers gave a shout.

"Don't just stand there! Open fire!"

It took a moment longer, but soon the men started to shoot at her. Most of them didn't get off more than one bullet or whatever other sort of ammunition they were using. It wasn't because she stopped them, but rather because the icy blue wing suddenly reformed the goddess, complete with arms this time, and she swung her hands down-causing what could only be described as shields of ice around the Gear. Yet unlike real ice, which would have been ripped apart by the bullets, this held solid and intercepted every shot. The Gear herself never moved. She stayed in her cringed position. At any rate, after the first salvo abated, the ice shattered and disintegrated. With it, the goddess retreated…

Only for the wraith visage to appear from the second one; also with arms, and what looked like a bow and arrow. It twisted around as red eyes burned forth from its head, looking at the nearest officer. Lifting up the bow, it took aim, and loosed an arrow at them traveling far faster than a bullet.

The officers looking only had time to see a greenish-gray streak shoot by them…and through them. It went silently and instantly through the nearest one and streaked through two more behind him. His fellow officers turned and looked to him, and saw his face had got rigid and pale. Yet it wasn't just from shock. The color continued to drain from it, going from merely wan to looking far paler…to the point of lacking blood. Not only that, but his skin began to shrink and recede, going back and starting to cling around the bones. It continued to do so, and as it did, his flesh collapsed all together and began to rend and tear. His eyeballs shrunk and sank back in his head, and he opened his mouth, only for the gums to rot away and the teeth to fall out. After a few more moments of withering, the officer, as well as the two behind him, collapsed…having rotted away to nothing but skin and bones.

The IPF members gaped in horror and looked back to Dizzy even as the wraith drew another bolt and took aim at the next nearest one. Over the rain, they faintly heard the girl cry out.

"Run away…run away from me!"

The arrows soon began to fly again; far more rapid than they should have. The hideous visage spun around and fired again and again at the crowd surrounding it, and most of its shots ripped through more than one of the people as it did so. Each one that was struck soon withered away into nothingness. It wasn't long before a few of them tried to shoot back only for the goddess to spring forth and swing her hands down. When that happened, ice erupted from the ground in a spike, pierced those about to attack, and then branched out like a tree, impaling them from within a hundred times and sending their blood flying. She only had to do this to the first dozen or so before they stopped trying to attack. Those with melee weapons turned and began to run for it.

Yet a moment later, the attacks cut off again as heavier machine gun fire that had been brought in fired away at the girl from the preset emplacements. She actually looked up at this, even as the goddess brought forth another shield of ice to block against the heavier gunfire. However, the shield fractured a bit this time and she backed off a step from it. Yet it didn't shatter it completely. Now that she was focusing on it, she made the shield strong and regenerated to keep stopping the bullets. However, the wraith seemed to bare hooked teeth at this before making the bow disappear and instead formed a scythe from the feathers; which it flicked out a bit, giving it a good ten foot reach from the body of the Gear. A moment later, she crouched and leapt, easily sailing over the entire wreckage of the cathedral and out onto the courtyard with a single bound as easily as if she was weightless. The black wing flicked out its scythe a moment later, and it expanded to a fifty foot distance, tagging the gun emplacement shooting at it and slicing both the barricade and the weapon itself in two; as well as the two officers behind it in a rather bloody manner.

As the nearest IPF began to run in terror in the wake of the Gear, abandoning all remaining desire to even stand their ground against it, three more bullet storms rained out from behind her from three other emplacements put at distances from each other around the courtyard. Yet, again, the bullets never reached her. An ice shield, much larger than before, erupted behind her. The wraith turned and looked around, noticing the guns, and the red eyes began to burn again.

"N-No! Not that one! Don't! Please!"

Even as the Gear cried out, her arms seemed to move of her own accord as she swung around in a flash and lashed out with her hand-sending flashes of red light into the ground in a trace. Wherever her hand went, it seemed to send out the blips of light, and soon touched not only the gun emplacements, but spread them all along the edge of the area. As soon as they were done, the arms of the Gear seemed to return to her control as she drew them back and wrapped them around herself, her eyes closing and cringing in terror of what would happen next.

It occurred a moment later when a chain of explosions, each one equivalent to the force of one of the cannon shells that had been fired at her, went off and proceeded to rip apart not only the surroundings of the cathedral, the machine guns, and every last officer unfortunate enough to be within 10 yards of the blast, but ripped apart the buildings around them as well. Not only were they torn apart, but the force of the blast knocked them back with further impact, hitting them back and tearing them down but also blowing them into the buildings behind them. Only unlike the shells, fire and destruction burst in its wake, hot enough to burn even with the rain…

Dizzy continued to cringe, only to hear splattering in the rain. She turned and looked, and her blood-red eyes widened in horror as she saw one brave officer, sword drawn and no doubt enhanced with magic speed, was running at her and trying to drive it through her. She gasped and recoiled as the weapon came forward, but the goddess, her face stern and even looking a bit angry at the gesture, lashed out with one hand and seized the blade before it could tag her. The officer was stunned at the gesture, but soon more horrified as the goddess looked to him and reached out to seize him by the neck. He barely had time to get a scream out before intense cold transferred into him and proceeded to freeze him inside out. The moment that was done, the black wing shifted, and the wraith on it hissed and swung a bony claw out: shattering the remains of the officer into bits. Afterward, he pulled the claw up, and like a puppet on a string Dizzy's own hand raised and swung its palm forward; sending out more streaks of light, not only to those before her but also far down the street and beyond. Dizzy saw this, and screamed in horror and recoiled, tears flowing from her eyes, as a chain of explosions ripped up and down the street, obliterating an entire block within an instant with columns of fire and destruction.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

Whatever officers who had stood their ground and were still lucky enough to have their lives were now fleeing, but that was a small matter as by now the destruction had expanded into the surrounding city, and civilians were beginning to be impacted. Most citizens had already been panicked, but what few hadn't already started to flee the entire city in terror began to do so now, causing more chaos. Among them, a number of hunters and mercenaries, on witnessing an entire block of the city go up in flames, immediately decided that they had bit off more than they could chew with this bounty and fled for it.

* * *

High up above, however, a different order was going out.

"Aren't we reloaded yet?!"

"S-S-Sir…yes, sir, but…"

"Open fire! Now!"

"Sir, we might hit whoever's running from it that's still-"

"It's going to kill everyone in the city if we don't! Open fire!"

* * *

The cannons from the ships overhead once again rotated into position, this time each one of them moving to target the area that Dizzy was in. The sound was more than noticeable. It let out an echoing groan over the entire landscape, and soon caused the Gear to snap her head around and look to the sky. Not every cannon was capable of targeting her, but one of them pretty much managed to aim their entire flank at her. She stared a moment as she again heard the humming "warm up"…

When that happened, however, both the goddess and the wraith vanished back into her wings, forming just the feathered appendages. Just as the cannons reared back to fire, she took off into the sky-letting the shots ring out and devastate another area in a hail of fire, but missing her. In fact, the resulting explosions from the blast cast about shockwaves that her wings seemed to take on and let her sail higher much faster than before, launching her up almost as if she was a piece of debris herself.

At their low altitude, and restricted by using machinery designed to target other ships, not individuals, there was no way the warships could track her as she shot above them momentarily before landing right on the foils of one of the warships, one that was decked with gun batteries. As she touched down in a crouch, the guns themselves swiveled slightly, the result of the manual gunner on the bridge scanning the ground and sky for a sign of her. Most of the other ships were doing the same, their own turrets whirling around to try and see where she was. But as for the girl herself, she rose to standing height, looked to what was adjacent to her, and then reacted by having her blue wing form the goddess again. This time, she made a gesture that Dizzy seemed to more "willingly" mimic as she pointed her hand at the battery, and a moment later a football-sized shard of ice erupted from the goddess' hands and smacked into the side of the turret, piercing the metal and embedding itself. A moment later, it spread a chill throughout the entire array, filling each barrel, servo, and hydraulic line with thick ice. Suddenly locked in place, it wasn't long before the sounds of metal snapping and grinding went off from it, followed by small eruptions that began to blow out sections of it and cause smoke to pour forth. On the bridge, the gunners saw one of their turrets go dead.

Dizzy didn't stay long to watch. She spun around and she (and the goddess) threw another shard of ice at the next nearest, soon doing the same to that. After that, she took off. Unlike real wings, she wasn't pushed along by them flapping. Rather, her body seemed to glide about a foot off the surface of the wing and she shot forward, leaving a streak of air behind her. She shot by each turret, one after another, and fired a similar ice dart into each one, jamming up the weapons and disabling them. On the bridge, the crew saw one turret after another go dead as they were progressively being disarmed.

Yet it wasn't just that ship that noticed what was happening. The others, on hearing alerts from the ship and beginning to see smoke and turrets going dead, angled their views up and finally managed to spot the Gear running along the side of the ship, destroying each turret. And after seeing what happened below and seeing the power she wielded now, as well as panicking a bit to think of what might happen once she was done with those turrets and moved on, one of the captains panicked.

Unseen by Dizzy, the cannons on the ship that was broadside to the one she was on lifted their guns and took aim. It took only moments for the crews of both other ships to realize what was going on, and soon began to cry out to stop. Even the crew on board the airship hesitated. Yet the captain merely told them that the people on board that ship were already dead as soon as the Gear was done with them and this was their only chance to get it. With that in mind, the cannons locked on, trying to focus as much as possible on the Gear, and started to warm up. On letting out the charging sound, the scopes picked up the Gear freezing, obviously hearing this, and turning her head to them, but a moment later the shots were fired. And from this range, it took only an instant before the airship was lit up like a firework.

The first seven or so shots merely turned the side into fireballs. But live ammunition was caught in the frozen guns, and one of the shots hit it and set it off. By an act of mostly chance, one happened to erupt in just such a way to rupture a large fuel line and cause enough heat to ignite it. While the ship would have been disabled or even grounded with massive casualties in any event, this was far worse as the entire warship, through the lucky shot, was turned into a pillar of flame hovering over Adalwolf, and the blast rocked both remaining airships as it blew to bits. Yet even as the ship that delivered the fatal blow interrupted its fire and buckled, the crew was more interested not in the lives of their comrades but in trying to bring the scopes back up, trying to see if they had managed to take the Gear with it…

For a moment, the scope scanned the skyline, seeing nothing but smoke and fire from the other ship as it was completely consumed and began to sink into the city below. Fortunately, most of it was positioned over existing destruction so it would only crush and burn another building or two…although by this point the casualties had increased in the city proper by panicked citizens trampling weaker, smaller pedestrians or running them over with cars in a desperate attempt to get away, even without the ship adding more to the total. But the crewmember running the scopes scanned desperately over the area, trying to find a sign of the Gear or, preferably, her charred body…

When, to his shock, a winged form burst from the flames, leaping right for their aircraft. The black wing now had the wraith on it, and he was brandishing not his scythe but rather three long claws, each of which had grown to the length of the previous blade and were extending more from his body all the time. The crewmember cried out. The captain, hearing it, began to shout orders. But whether it would have done any good or not would never be known.

Dizzy sailed through the air until she nearly touched down on the aircraft, but before she could she halted about twenty feet from making contact. The wraith raised its hand, extended its talons even further, and then swung downward; causing streaks of greenish-gray light to trace from one side of the airship all the way to the other. Moments later, as the streaks vanished, large sections of the ship flickered and went out, losing power. Others began to erupt and burn. Engines started to cut off while two of the turrets ignited before the ship snapped into two halves. In truth, there were an additional two middle sections, representing the space in between the claws of the wraith, but they seemed almost like salami slices of metal decks, engines, and housing as they slipped out and fell to the ground. The other two pieces soon dropped like stones, losing all support ability, and soon smashed into the ground. These ones, unfortunately, were positioned over undamaged buildings. One merely crashed into another score of them and broke and splintered. The other, however, hit the ground "wrong" and actually rolled; acting like a chef's pin of death as it crushed an additional set of buildings other than the ones it ground on impact.

The Gear, seeming a little shaken now, trembling a bit from the ordeal, had her black wing again reform as she turned her head to the last airship. Unlike the other two, however, this one was already firing the side thrusters, shifting itself around and putting the main engines between it and Dizzy. It was trying to retreat.

For a moment, the wraith's head appeared, and stretched out its hand toward it…

"No!" The girl cried in protest, seizing her own corresponding arm, as if to keep it from rising. "They're running away! Let them go! No more!"

The wraith's head seemed to look to her, and if it could make noise one would have thought it nearly growled at her before reluctantly retreating back into the feathers. As for the Gear, she held a moment, watching the airship go, and then slowly exhaled. As she did, her own pallor began to pale, and trembling, like she was a mixture of cold and scared, began to come over her body. She bowed her head and began to turn away…

As a result, she didn't immediately see it when a special bay opened on top of the airship and fired off a single metallic sphere with some sort of electric purple light about it at her. Dizzy kept her head bowed and instead began to slowly lower to the ground. The sphere, fired slowly in a lob, didn't make anything in the form of a whistling noise to let one know it was coming. But after it had closed half the distance, the cutting through the air became audible. The girl didn't turn, but the goddess' eyes peered out from behind the icy blue feathers. A moment later, it sprung out completely and reached down to grasp Dizzy's shoulders, giving them a shake. The lips cried out to her, although they were completely silent to everyone else. Nevertheless, it was enough to make the Gear look up, and when the goddess pointed behind her, she turned and looked, and gasped. With the object nearly on her, she quickly flapped backward to try and get away, but it didn't matter. The weapon had a proximity fuse that set once far enough away from the airship, and it ignited a moment later as the Gear brought her sleeves in front of her to guard while continuing to flap away.

However, guarding did little as the device detonated, not blasting her with a flaming eruption but rather making a dark sphere form in mid-air. A moment later, a vacuum-like noise went out, one that seemed not like a true electric vacuum but rather like a region of empty space opening up, before everything in the vicinity began to be drawn into a tiny pinprick hole as if all of reality was nothing more than water in a bathtub and the plug had been pulled. As it turned out, the German government had authorized the usage of some of their deadlier magical weapons on this endeavor, including one that had been used to open miniaturized black holes. They only had about five in the entire country's arsenal but had given them to the airships to aid their effort. Three of them were already gone, destroyed with their respective airships, but one of the remaining two had just been fired at the Gear. Now, not only the rain but the debris on the ground, the building rubble about, and even light beams close to the singularity were being drawn in with hurricane force.

Dizzy, naturally, was soon attempting to fly away from this as hard as possible. Now her wings truly did flap as she tried to pull herself back; debris being yanked up all around her and drawn into the void before being obliterated. Just ahead of her was a warped space right in the center which indicated an event horizon. One couldn't truly "see" it, obviously, as there was no light to bounce off of it. All of it was being drawn in. She tried to avoid this as hard as she could even as her clothing threatened to be ripped from her body and feathers were yanked from her wings. Her red eyes were filled with panic as she flapped harder and harder; trying to at least get herself to the ground as she moved, hoping that she would be harder to "suck" from there. Even so, she had to strain as hard as she could just to slowly move herself down and gain some distance on the attack, desperately waiting for it to abort.

Among the rubble below was a rather long splinter of wood. The gravity effects of the weapon suddenly managed to pull it enough to get it to start moving upward, and on doing so gravity's power increased to soon yank it all the way up into the air, and then shoot it straight up toward the singularity. The only problem was Dizzy was in between it and the event horizon. A moment later, the shaft of wood shot forward like a bullet straight for her right forearm and pierced right through it, causing a spurt of blood which was immediately drawn in as the shaft ran it through. She cried out in sudden pain as she was stabbed by the wood, suddenly shocked at the unexpected pain…and forgot herself. Losing her control, she was drawn toward the singularity, thrown for a loop as she did, tumbling over herself again and again. She thought it was all over for a moment...

When the singularity suddenly faded. All the bits of debris in the air that were being drawn to it were released and fell to the ground. The feelings of being pulled were gone, and the rain fell normally again as the mist from it slowly began to fall down again. Dizzy toppled only once more before evening out, and then hovered there.

The girl panted: panicked, terrified, and trying to catch her breath. She was too shaken up from what had just happened. The goddess soon reformed, enlarging this time and exposing her upper body, then swept around the front of Dizzy and took her injured limb. Blood was dripping fairly readily now, staining her white clothing crimson. Immediately, she took the shaft and broke off the ends, and then pulled it out. It no doubt caused a great deal of pain, but the hands of the goddess quickly clasped the area and chilled it to help thicken the blood and stop it. Meanwhile, the wraith came from her black wing, red eyes glaring at the retreating ship.

A moment later a second orb was fired out of it, lobbed much like the first.

The wraith looked down to the Gear and seemed to speak silently to her as the goddess had. The goddess, in turn, looked up as if she could hear as well, just as she finished stopping the bleeding. She looked down to the girl a moment later and mouthed something as well. Dizzy looked near catatonic. She didn't change. She didn't move. She merely stared down without seeing for a moment. But then, her eyes slowly turned upward. While her stare seemed blank, she appeared to somehow recognize was what coming.

Her jaw closed, and she kept staring silently for a moment.

Then, both of the figures retreated into her wings, and she took off straight for the incoming weapon. Her face, for the first time, looked like it wasn't hesitating. It was more focused now…decisive. However, to those on board the ship, they wondered if this was suicide by her…willingly going closer to the weapon that had nearly got her before. Of course, none of them knew if it would have managed to kill her or restrain her last time, but they had figured it had a better shot than conventional firepower. And they figured she wouldn't willingly go to it again.

It wasn't until the Gear was nearly on it that the reason became clear.

No wings this time. No goddess or wraith. As she reached the orb, Dizzy swung out her hand, and her sleeve seemed to extend and widen before she backhanded the orb back to the airship at twice the speed.

The weapon was dangerous, as it had just shown, to both the user as well as the target. That was why it didn't arm until it had traveled a certain distance. The Gear had gotten around that by rushing out to meet it, just like a sub rushing into a torpedo at close range. Yet there was something more unfortunate about this particular device.

The fuse didn't arm at a certain distance from its launcher.

It armed after a certain length of time from being fired.

The crew tried to pick up speed while others fled the rear region, but little to nothing could be done to stop the shell from sailing back toward the large aft of the ship, combining both the main engines, and detonating. Once again, the gravity well ignited and the sound of the cosmic vacuum rang out, but this time Dizzy was well clear of the area of effect. She was able to back off far more easily and watch. Although the singularity was meant to be used on small personnel targets, being an anti-Gear weapon, it didn't mean that it didn't soon put the airship under tremendous strain. The engines and sac were well in range of the event horizon, and soon the entire ship was halted. Putting out more power was irrelevant, for soon the main engine and the two accessory ones were being ripped from the ship and "spaghettified" as they were drawn into the singularity, obliterated into a tiny dot. The other boosters and side thrusters all took off on the ship at once, struggling to get it away, but it only drew further and further back into the singularity, slowly compressing the accessory engines like a tin can and beginning to collapse the rear of the ship like an enormous paper bag…

At last, the gravity let loose and the attack dissipated as before, but the damage had been done. Suddenly snapped free, a quarter of the airship as ripped clean off while the thrusters yanked the remainder of the ship forward. It didn't go very far vertically, although the ship, suddenly lightened and propelled by thrusters, blasted along the surface at a rapid clip. Yet it was only for a moment as its own systems failed, and the huge bulk descended to the ground. Moments later, it was ripping the tops off of homes and buildings before descending low enough to crush them utterly, moving through the city like the world's largest steamroller. Those caught in the streets were helpless to escape before the deadly weapon crashed into the ground and simultaneously mangled itself and whatever was unfortunately enough to get in its path.

After a few deadly seconds that seemed like an eternity, the remainder of the airship ground to a halt. Fires were bursting out on it, but the rain continued to fall and smothered them. In its wake, a half-mile-long track of destruction stretched from where it had first made contact with buildings to where it had halted, a broken, destroyed heap.

No one ran anymore. No one screamed. They stood where they were, frozen in shock and terror, and waited to see what would come next as the rain continued to fall.

* * *

It was no means by choice, but May had been in situations like this before and knew how to survive them. When Johnny had given the call, she quickly ran back into the cathedral, dove for the ground, and braced the wide part of her anchor overhead, putting her head and neck beneath it. Not exactly an umbrella, but May knew she would have been dead anyway if she wasn't already an advanced magic with enhanced strength. Any normal human from hundreds of years ago would have died or been buried alive at best. As it was, even spared the wrath of the walls, huge chunks of stone and building materials slammed down on her in a near deluge, and it was a good thing her head and neck, as well as spine, _were_ braced underneath the anchor. But at length, the deluge ended and all was quiet.

May didn't emerge right away, however…especially on hearing the sounds of more destruction and screaming. At length, that did die down, and not wanting to risk being buried or lack of air, she began to get to work digging her way out. Luckily for her, it mostly involved shoving a few pieces of debris out of the way: some of which, unknown to her, had been sucked into oblivion along with the magic weapon. It took some work, and when she finally began to see a bit of daylight and rain streaming into her aperture, she slowed down; fearing what might be watching. But eventually she used her anchor to pry up one last piece of rubble, exposing the gray, rainy landscape, and slowly ducked her head just a bit out.

The pirate had been through a lot, but her jaw hung loose at the utter devastation. Even at their worst, the Jellyfish Air Pirates couldn't hope to do this much damage on the fly. Destruction was everywhere. Fires were still burning in numerous spots, their black smoke joining with the gray skies, although they were slowly fading. There were no sounds of running or screaming anymore. No sounds of _anything_. No sign of any more IPF officers or anything else. Even the wreckage of the airships seemed oddly still. The place was like a ghost town…

May stared silently for a moment before she shrank back.

The Gear, Dizzy, had landed on the ground in the midst of the destruction. At once, the pirate retreated to the shadows and didn't breathe. She heard they had far greater senses than regular humans, but she preferred to try hiding none the less. She hardly recognized the girl now; not with the large pair of wings coming from her back. She still remembered how they had _faces_ earlier…and put two and two together about what had knocked her out before. Considering all the damage she had done, she wondered for a moment if she was next…

Dizzy herself was quiet. May saw through the shadow as she slowly looked from one side of the landscape to another-seeing nothing but rubble for some distance, and not the slightest sound of movement or life. For an instant, May thought she was surveying the damage, perhaps even showing a bit of pride. To be honest, the thought surprised May. She thought she was so normal, so innocent before… Seeing her acting like just a frightened child… But the pirate had a hard time seeing that now. She just saw that inky black tail flickering, those two wings seeming to almost radiate energy, standing there with all of that power…

Then she did something May didn't expect at all.

She fell down to her knees, put her arms around herself again, and began to cry so loudly she could hear her even from here.

After a moment, the pirate's face turned to confusion. Dizzy was trembling again and crying louder than ever, nearly bent over from her sobs. The girl's natural prejudices, much as those of every other human, held momentarily as she thought all Gears were bent toward destruction and didn't know what was going on.

Then, she saw Dizzy raise her bloody arm and wipe her nose, sniffling like a little child, before resuming crying.

At that, May saw it. For a moment the Gear was gone. The frightened, shy, quiet girl she met back in the Schwarzwald was back. Although a part of her tried to tell her that this was a violent, monstrous, artificial beast, she honestly couldn't see it. Behind the wings and the tail, and even the red eyes, there was nothing there but a frightened child; one not much different in physical age from the rest of the Jellyfish Air Pirates. Not much different from when she herself was alone in the world and cried much as Dizzy was now.

Somehow, even in the face of this terrible destruction, seeing everything she had done, May felt a twinge of pity and sympathy inside of her.

Her thoughts were interrupted, however, when she heard a "cosmic ripping" sound. It wasn't anything like the spheres from before. Rather, a scythe blade suddenly ripped out of thin air and twisted in a circle, seeming to cut a gate of some sort. May shrank back even more for a moment, knowing full well who _that_ was. And moments later, Testament emerged and stepped out right next to Dizzy. As if it somehow knew, his bird flew in from seemingly nowhere and immediately began to hover around him again, cawing once more.

The older Gear reached for Dizzy, and froze. His eyes flickered up to May's location.

The girl nearly yelped, but quickly covered her mouth and retreated more. Miraculously, she didn't make a sound.

The Gear's red eyes gazed into the hole where she had begun to dig out, stared for a few moments, and then looked to Dizzy, reaching out and giving her a shake.

"We have to leave now before more of them come."

Dizzy, in spite of her age, continued to sniffle and sob like a four-year-old child. However, she wiped her eyes again, and gave a nod. She needed help from Testament, but slowly, holding onto his arm, she managed to stand up.

"I can't take you through the gate. I used up my energy getting out of the cathedral. You have to fly us."

The Gear hesitated. She seemed reluctant to do just that but in the end gave a nod. Uneasily and slowly, she put her arm around him to grab him. In spite of her small, lithe body, it seemed carrying him wouldn't be difficult.

"There'll be none of them until we're a good four miles north of the city. From there, we can sneak up north on foot into Berlin. They won't risk doing what they did here in that city. They'll kill too many of their-"

Mention of the word "kill" caused Dizzy to suddenly cringe and whimper.

"…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to use that word. They'll hurt too many of their own kind if they fire there." He paused, seeing Dizzy wasn't improving. "Be strong. We're nearly free of them. I promise."

The younger Gear hesitated a moment, but then finally gave a quiet nod. Her wings unfurled, seeming to grow much larger than before, enough to actually allow sustained flight.

May wasn't sure why but an impulse seized her then, and she took it. Abruptly, she shot forward and pushed her upper body out of the hole.

"Dizzy…!"

At once, the Gear froze and snapped around as did the older Gear. Both of them looked and saw May staring back at them. Testament immediately tensed, figuring the worst, no doubt. Dizzy, however, stared a moment before she began to quiver violently. As tears flowed from her eyes again, she snapped her head around and bowed it, definitely ashamed.

May opened her mouth but again found herself unable to say anything. What _could_ she say? She simply stared as the rain kept falling.

"I…I…"

After a time, Testament scowled. "Enough of your kind have paid the price for trying to kill her today. Forget what you heard. Forget _her_. The next time I see you I won't spare words. I'll kill you outright." He looked again to Dizzy. "We have to leave. _Now._ "

The younger Gear continued to cringe and hold.

May blinked. "Dizzy, you don't-"

"Goodbye, May."

The pirate froze, hearing the Gear finally speak. She cringed a bit more.

"Never come near me again. If you do…I'll kill you."

With a whoosh of air, the Gear took off into the sky, bearing Testament with her. May actually came out of the hole at that and opened her mouth to shout out, but it was pointless. Before she was even fully standing, Dizzy and Testament were nothing more than a dot in the sky, which quickly vanished into the clouds completely. Soon she was gone, not even the draft behind her left. All was silent.

The first mate was left standing in the rain, listening to it quietly fall.

Not for another ten minutes did a sound ring out upon that gloomy Sunday.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	18. Sifting Through Mud

**"** **Sifting Through Mud"**

* * *

When all was said and done, the first assessment that went through Ky's mind was how often he had been in a situation where some explosion, natural, man-made, or magical, had buried him under rubble before. He happened to remember one time in particular back in the Crusaders where he was immobilized for three days. That didn't bring good memories and he had practiced rather hard on how to avoid both getting buried as well as getting himself out quickly. And while he had ended up pinned under some rather bad debris, he had calmly taken his time to gather his power into the Thunderseal and then let out a rather large blast. While most people thought there wasn't much in the way of force to lightning, a mage could actually put a considerable amount of electromagnetic power into it; enough to shatter into dust most of what was over him. Sure, it would cause a cave-in, but that was only a problem if you didn't blast the material with enough power to make most of the debris explode out from where you were located, and Ky had made sure to take his time building to that.

As the captain dragged himself out, he was just in time to hear a single noise: the sound of engines igniting. It had to be from an airship. For a moment, he expected to see one of the warships standing by. Perhaps they had actually managed to destroy the Gear, impossible as that was to believe…

And, a bit to his surprise…unsettling to the thought.

But when he turned and looked to the source, he was just in time to see another airship rocket away much quicker, and also more familiar. There wasn't an IPF man in the world, after all, who didn't know how to recognize the infamous "May Ship".

 _How long was I building that spell?_ He thought to himself on seeing that ship take off. _Maybe I was unconscious for a time…but it looks as if they had enough time to swing in here and either look for those two pirates or pick them up and then leave again. But that means…_

 _There were no airships to deter them._

The Captain looked around, and in moments his normal five senses as well as his ability to detect residual electrical impulses told him all that he needed to know. It was horrific, to be honest. He had expected a massacre all along, but his worst fears were confirmed yet again when he realized only Justice had ever been able to wage destruction of this magnitude alone. She was indeed the superior of the Command Gear.

And now everyone knew it.

This was the worst tragedy in years. Not since the Crusades had something this horrific happened. There was no telling how many innocents had been slaughtered as well as IPF officers and German military personnel. The city might as well be torched now, because there was no way they could summon the money to rebuild. And this was only the beginning. Until now fortune seekers and those looking for easy fame and money were the ones who arose. Now people would react the way they should have all along: with fear. Only this fear wouldn't be quiet or enough to get people to comply. It would cause panic. Rioting. Widespread terror that could boil over into all manners of lawlessness and death. Worse yet…it might persuade the government of the worlds to use larger and more terrible weapons in a desperate and foolish attempt to kill the Gear with one fell stroke.

Things were going to be more out of hand than ever now. There wasn't much time.

Ky hardly knew where to begin. If he had any luxury at all, now would have been the time to begin a prayer service for all of the dead. Goodness knew it would be a national tragedy in Germany for years to come. He contented himself to go on one knee for a moment and offer a quick prayer, but then he was up again. He figured he might as well try the obvious first. He went for his headpiece.

"This is Captain Kiske. Is anyone receiving? Over?"

Static was the only response. Even if there were survivors, the man grimly realized there was little chance of getting a reply. That Gear attack had to have disabled whatever relays they had. He only hoped _someone_ made it out. So…the first order of business was in reestablishing communication with someone. First with any survivors, and then with central command. To be honest he had more than a few choice words for them at the moment. While the Gear may have done all of this, the blame rested on the government. They were insane bringing these weapons in here. Provoking a Gear with a big gun threatened a big response. Kliff taught him that back in the Crusades. It was why they risked fighting them in small groups or one-on-one so many times. They could have kept everything down to a few hundred casualties at the worst if not for them.

Yet more than that, Ky realized something else. He could detect the electrical impulses here. While they were still so fresh, he could make out a great deal about them. Many of them were charged…erratic…spastic. He had never sensed a Gear act like that before, but he had sensed soldiers before. And they always did it when they were panicked. A few months ago he might have condemned the creature outright but after seeing Justice face-to-face he realized better. This was the act of someone frightened and reckless; not knowing her own power…

 _That doesn't change the fact of how many she's killed, though._ He told himself. _She looked like an innocent girl when I saw her. Even with those red eyes, those wings gave her the face of an angel… But she's dangerous. She has to be found and stopped one way or another. With this kind of power, there's nothing on Earth that could stand against her if she gains full control. And if she becomes anything like Justice…_

A sound was heard in the distance, getting Ky's attention. Far on the periphery of the destruction, he heard the noise of a siren: one used by police. He wasn't sure if it was local authorities or the IPF at this point, but right now he didn't care. It was a good sign. There was still _some_ authority around here and they had a vehicle that was working. However, the siren only got closer for a moment before stopping. Small wonder as most of the streets around here looked like a freshly tilled field. At any rate, he could use their help as soon as they got here. He turned again to his headpiece radio. Maybe he could raise them on short range.

Yet before he could say a word, he heard a shift of rubble nearby. He quickly removed his hand. He had no idea what had happened, but he knew that they had all been hit by Dizzy. This was either one of those others at best, or Testament at worst. He braced himself for an attack as he looked.

And instead saw Sol slowly pull himself out from under the rubble, looking rather battered and dirty.

For a moment, Ky paused. He couldn't remember the last time that Sol looked so weak. He seemed to actually be dragging himself out on all fours. Even in the fight against Justice he seemed more alert and empowered. That collapse alone couldn't have done it. He knew how to evade being crushed in that sort of situation as well as Ky did. Old injuries of a sort had to have accumulated on him.

The captain stared a bit longer: silent and motionless. After all, he wasn't exactly sure how to react to a situation like this, seeing as it was the first he had ever been it. But slowly, as Sol emerged, and the Fireseal came out with him, his fists tightened. A moment later, and he began to advance on the man.

Even without looking up, Sol apparently knew he was coming. He saw his hand move to clench the hilt of the Fireseal tighter, but he _must_ have been in bad shape because Ky found capable of using his own natural speed to move in and lash out strong enough to knock it from his grasp. After doing so, his eyes filled with fury at the bounty hunter, who only dully looked up to him.

"Well Sol…did 'working alone' go as well as you planned?" He spoke in a dark voice, full of anger.

The bounty hunter looked back at him silently. However, Ky wasn't finished. He stepped back and gestured about him.

"Go on…take a look. Take a good, long look. This blood isn't all on you, but some of it _is_ staining you this time. How many people are dead, Sol? How many lives and livelihoods ruined?"

Sol was silent a moment longer. "You can blame your airships for th-"

" _No,_ Sol…not this time." Ky snapped back. "You're not walking away from this with a 'clean conscience'. Those airships were _not_ mine. They were sent in by the German government, and they fired because they thought I wasn't getting the job done. And I _could_ have, or at least kept them from intervening, if everything had gone well with this operation. But it didn't and I have _you_ , in part, to blame for that. Because you weren't going to let me keep to my plan. You weren't going to trust me. You burst in there and you made me try to go in after them. The whole reason I went into that cathedral was to try and _keep them from firing_ in the first place! But because I wasn't there to hold them back _this_ happened! You know that _I_ knew full well I didn't have a chance of stopping that Gear by myself, but you forced my hand! Now look what resulted! Hundreds…maybe thousands of people are dead!"

A hand went out and pointed an accusing finger at Sol. He, on his part, did not move or shift.

"I _asked_ you for a favor for the first time in years. I would have begged you if you asked. And you treated me like I was human refuse; like you were loathe to even speak with me. And now look what happened! You may be disgusted with me, Sol, but you knew full well that the only chance we had against stopping those two was working together! You may not have much respect for me or my position. You may think the same way as every other thug and hunter thinks: that I'm just some old boy scout getting in your way. But did the lives of these people not mean _anything_ to you that you didn't care whether they died so long as your 'style' didn't get infringed upon?"

Sol didn't answer. He didn't show anything. No sadness or anger; not bitterness or rage. No smug attitude either. He simply stared back. The rain continued to fall on both of them, and it started to run out from his hair and down his face. But he said nothing in response.

Ky continued to glare at him a moment longer.

"…I couldn't care less about the Fireseal right now, Sol. But you _are_ under arrest for obstructing justice and contributing to letting the most wanted woman in the world escape."

The man didn't respond again, but Ky didn't wait for one. By now, he began to hear footsteps behind him. He turned and looked and, as he had hoped, he saw some IPF officers running up to him. All looked a little haggard and more than a little nervous, and they seemed to be glancing about to make sure the Gear wasn't still in the area. Nevertheless, the lead officer among them came up to Ky and saluted. The others behind him, three in all, quickly fell in as well. The lead officer panted a moment, clearly out of breath, before swallowing and speaking.

"Captain Kiske, I'm sorry we didn't contact earlier. All relays have been fused. There was too much disturbance a little while ago. Sir…we have bad news."

Ky frowned. "I can see that, officer. I have a hard time thinking this could be worse than what's happened so far, but what is it?"

"The suspect in the murders of the unit within the Schwarzwald, sir."

"What about her?"

"She escaped. Killed five to do it."

Ky hesitated, but then exhaled and bowed his head momentarily. He ran his hand through his hair. Any other time and this probably would have elicited more of a response. That woman was lethal. Perhaps not nearly as lethal as the Gear, but that wasn't saying much. He looked down and thought about what to do from here…

And paused.

He noticed something on the ground.

Blinking a bit, Ky straightened and walked over to one section of the rubble. He bent down nearby a moment later. He sensed a large amount of residual energy coming from something here: a wooden splinter, half of which was soaked in fresh-yet-rapidly-drying fluid. Some of it in liquid form was around it. It looked like blood, but he knew better. The rain was splashing against it, but it rapidly seemed to sink into it; indicating this blood had more of an oily quality to it, at least compared to the rainwater. It seemed to have that "multi-colored" look to it within the dim light of the gray sky.

Gear blood. And different in signature from Testament's…

He wasn't sure if it was part of the building that had landed on her or some of the chaos that resulted…but he realized it had to have come from the newer Gear, the one they called "Dizzy".

As powerful as she was, the shaft of wood had to have pierced her hard to draw this much blood.

 _Strange…when Justice removed her mask, she looked like her skin was as fragile as ours. Might explain while she was always clad in armor. This Gear seems similar._

There was something important to be seen here. It seemed for all of her power, Dizzy possessed a rather mortal body. Perhaps outright physical trauma and more blunt force couldn't hurt her, but something with a sharp edge and enough power could pierce her. That was something she had inferior to Justice.

It might be possible to strike her down with one good blow.

He shook that out of his mind for now. There were more pressing needs. Storing the information for the time being, he rose again and looked to the men. He glanced at Sol and saw he hadn't moved, other than to straighten himself out. He hadn't even gone for the Fireseal.

A moment later, he began to go for it himself as he gave instructions.

"Don't just stand there, officers. Help me get to working digging out any survivors. While I'm at it, brief me on exactly what happened and try to see if we can get anyone else on the radio to start getting some order back to this city…"

* * *

Johnny had been in worse scrapes, but not many.

 _Maybe I should have gone for someone to be the ship's doctor…_ He thought to himself as he winced while applying more iodine to one of his cuts.

The rest of the Jellyfish Air Pirates currently not manning the helm gave him a nervous look. May was among them, although for once, unbelievable as it seemed, her mind seemed preoccupied on something besides Johnny's welfare. She had barely even started stitching her own torn uniform from the collapse.

"Are you going to be alright, Johnny?" Sephy asked nervously, folding her hands anxiously and leaning in close. "You look so roughed up… After Octy said that Gear leveled that city block…"

"Heh…never better." The captain lied through his teeth with a grin. He had pushed himself to his limit between battling some of those guys, and having an ancient cathedral that weighed quite a great deal fall on him wasn't exactly the most pleasant sensation either. But the girls looked to him to be someone strong, formidable, and unstoppable. If they started seeing him as human or mortal, then their anxiety would only grow in future conflicts. "I can take something small like that no problem."

"Well, I sure thought you were done for when April brought the ship around Adalwolf…" Leap muttered as she came forward and put a bowl of rather strong-smelling stew nearby; tough enough to where he wrinkled his nose a bit. She pointed. "Eat that up. You look scrawny after trying to feed yourself for the past few weeks. No wonder you got so beat up…"

Realizing it had to be one of Leap's "fortified" dishes, Johnny did his best to suppress a grimace and smile back. "…Thank you very much. Just let me finish doctoring myself first. Anyway, forget that… I was just eager to get out of that city and get going fast following getting out from under that wreck. My hat's off to the crew for their quick thinking."

"All the quick thinking in the world wouldn't have helped you and May if that Gear had just outright killed you, Johnny." July spoke up, nervously fingering her own weapon as if wanting to draw it for protection. "I mean, I've heard stories about how tough Gears are, but…but that was beyond belief…"

"Worse than that." Febby muttered from nearby, one of her ledgers open and a calculator nearby. She had been crunching numbers for a while and writing down her findings in the book, and as she had her look grew progressively more uncomfortable. "According these statistics I've just run, considering the level of damage, I estimate that Gear is able to put off firepower greater than a Class-V GRAGM, and has to be stronger than a Level-3 Gravity Well Detonation. Granted I'm only going based off of whatever devices and feeds I could scare up that happened to be watching the scene, but if the May Ship had been as close as she was when that gravity bomb went off it would have turned us inside out."

A moment of silence lingered in the room after hearing this. Everyone looked rather uncomfortable; grimacing and shrinking a bit. Johnny could see it. He couldn't really blame them. By all rights, he knew he should be rather amazed that he was even alive. That sort of power quite frankly exceeded his expectations. He was old enough to have witnessed destruction by a Gear firsthand during the latter days of the Crusades. Dizzy's power made that look like nothing. She was in a league of her own, even by Gear standards.

"…You know," Sephy spoke up quietly after a moment. "Maybe…maybe we should just bug out of this one and call it even. Even if…" She quickly shook her head. "I mean… _when_ we succeed, we're looking at a lot of overhead costs."

"Yeah…yeah." Febby threw in with a nod. "I mean, we're already running into the red so far on fuel costs alone since we started this."

"Want some more bad news?"

The group turned and looked, May looking up herself this time, although she still seemed rather distracted. They saw April stretching a bit and sighing as she walked into the meeting room.

"I told you we should have replaced that port engine a long time ago… It's overheating and burning through fuel like no tomorrow. We're going to have to risk a stop in one of Berlin's district for repairs. There's nowhere else remotely close to here we'll get the stuff we need to patch the engine and refuel. So that means we're going to have our hands full pretty soon just trying to keep the cops from finding out we landed in one of the biggest cities in Europe, especially since the May Ship sticks out like a sore thumb and they've got radar going up to eleven following what just happened in Adalwolf. We'll be lucky to get ourselves in and out long enough to be repaired."

"Never rains, but it pours…" July sighed. "As much as we could really use that bounty now, this is nuts. I don't even like the fact we've got to stay within a hundred miles of that thing now. For all we know it's moving on to Berlin right now to turn the place into a concrete lot."

"I'm with Sephy." Febby spoke up again, shaking her head. "Johnny…I know we've got a reputation to keep and all, but I'm really starting to get scared that someone's going to get killed. We were all afraid that you and May were finished back there. Even _Janis_ looked on edge and she's never been scared of anything before!"

"I've…kind of got to third that…" April admitted. "But I'll go with what you decide no matter what, Johnny. We all will. I'm just saying maybe we should reconsider…"

The man in black looked up and around. By now, he was seeing the downcast looks on the faces of his crew. They hadn't even been on the ground and he couldn't recall the last time he had seen them so nervous. He knew full well they'd follow him anywhere, but that wasn't exactly what he wanted. It did no good if they gave into fear or anxiety. His thoughts hadn't changed. He saw the look on that Gear's face briefly. In addition to being one of the cuter young ladies he had ever laid eyes on she seemed as fearful and timid as March. Even though it had only been for a few moments, he was convinced she was, in essence, a scared kid.

But a scared kid with a loaded gun was dangerous, and this was more like a scared kid with the entire stockpile from the last nuclear war and an itchy button finger. That last incident made him think they had seriously bitten off more than they could chew. The Gear had panicked and attacked, and Johnny realized that if it had been him or May who had made her panic and attack, the only thing left of them would have been a couple of blackened skid marks. How could you help someone who didn't have full control over more power than any other weapon ever created? Who only needed to grow fearful or terror-stricken to turn the May Ship and everyone in it into vapor?

As much as the pirate may have been willing to try (especially considering just how hot she had ended up being) he realized he'd put the rest of the girls in mortal danger doing so. And if his plan worked out, if he was somehow able to not only defy the odds with the Gear but with her human-hating guardian, the pirate-hating IPF, the deadliest bounty hunter ever who played with him like a cat plays with a mouse in their last battle, and all the other psychos, fortune seekers, and trained assassins, he'd essentially put the girls at risk every single day without them even knowing why. And would they accept her? The one they were calling a death machine and monster even now? The ones who knew nothing about what was the true situation…

 _No…_ He thought. _One of the girls knows the real situation…_

May knew more of the real story than any of them and she had been the only one who actually was able to talk face-to-face with the Gear. She had seen both sides of Dizzy: the innocent girl and the destructive engine of death. He knew, if there was anyone qualified to make a judgment call on whether or not it was worth continuing, it was her. With that in mind, he turned to her.

"I think, just this once, I'll defer to the first mate."

The girl actually looked up and blinked in astonishment. She wasn't alone. The others all looked rather surprised as well.

"You're…letting May make the call?" April asked. "Really?" She shook her head. "Er…no offense, May. It's just I'm not used to Johnny not saying everything…"

"Well, in this case, she knows better than me." The pirate answered with a smile. "She got real up close and personal. I think she'd actually have better judgment this time." He looked to her afterward. "Don't get used to it, May, but I'd really like to know what you think. So what do you say? Should we keep going from here?"

The young woman hesitated. She looked still clearly taken aback at being put on the spot. However, Johnny remained calm and waited as she relaxed, and actually thought for a moment. He wasn't sure how she would react, but he knew that she was up before he was and might have seen Dizzy first. He wasn't sure if that would have any impact on her decision, but he waited none the less.

The first mate turned her head down. She thought for a few moments. However, a decision clicked in her mind and after a bit she looked up.

"The Jellyfish Air Pirates help people in need, no matter how hard it is, right? Well…Dizzy needs our help right now and we might be the only people who can help her. I want to keep going. I know we only knew each other a little while, but I might be the only friend she has. She needs me right now. And I don't turn my back on my mates."

This caused no small amount of confusion on the faces of everyone else, but as for Johnny, he only smiled in response. He had hoped to hear something like that from May; if not today than some day. He suspected from the start she either wanted the money or she wanted to just hang out with him when this whole operation began. But now he realized her opinions had changed. Like him, she now saw Dizzy wasn't just a magic weapon but a thinking, feeling creature. And to him, if May was willing to stand up for her and risk the danger to get to her, then that meant he was too.

And now that he knew he had at least one crew member on his side, he turned to the others.

"As soon as we're at a safe distance, so long as we can stay in the air a bit longer before we're forced to land, I've got something I need to tell the whole crew together. I haven't been totally honest about all of this…"

* * *

As shaken up as Jam was over the whole hair salon battle, this was much worse. She didn't even have to listen to the radio (which was a good thing as it wasn't saying much at the moment; not surprising due to how few people could get close enough to report on anything and then get a message out following the destruction) to know how bad everything was. She and Millia had still been more than close enough to Adalwolf to have felt most of the downwind waves of power and force and to actually have caught some of it. It was a miracle that they weren't anywhere near where one of those airships had gone down.

 _Unlike many of the other people in the city,_ Jam thought uncomfortably.

In another bit of luck, the two had found a ride to Berlin and should have only been about ten minutes away. It wasn't much of one. Just an old, beat-up truck that a local farmer was using. He seemed to have barely enough to grow for more than subsistence usage, but he had some late-year vegetables that he had been planning to take to market in Adalwolf to pass on to an associate of his to sell. Well, that was a bust for obvious reasons. He had instead turned to see if he could find a place to sell them in Berlin when he found Jam and Millia. The latter wasn't in the best shape although she had some movement in her arms back, while Jam was still rather winded; especially after running as if a demon was on her heels when things started going down in Adalwolf. The only good part was that the last of the border security broke down after the explosion she set off and she was able to run right out of town. On seeing the two covered with mud, dust, and whatever other damage had happened to them in the fight with the assassins, the farmer elected to give them a ride. Great timing because neither of them had the money to pay someone to take them anywhere.

However, the chef by now was nearly apoplectic. The lack of heat in the back of the car scarcely went noticed by her even though she kept her arms wrapped around herself. This was way more than she had ever anticipated. By now, Jam realized she was in way, _way_ over her head. Even all of the hell that she had undergone ever since running into Millia was irrelevant. The Gear that had started her on this whole trip was what had caused the destruction of most of Adalwolf-something she barely escaped. That thing could easily kill her and level the entire country. But she realized something far worse as they drove along. It didn't really matter if she had escaped Adalwolf. Something like that was a threat to everything within a hundred miles.

In the ultimate act of bad timing, her brain seemed to kick in at that point and start processing the radio.

 _"…_ _traces of the signature left behind, experts say, are 'quite distinct'. Although the Gear appeared to go northward toward Berlin, authorities are advising civilians not to panic…"_

However, hearing that was all the impetus Jam needed to go over-the-edge.

"What?!" She exclaimed, snapping her head forward to the front cab. "That's where we're going!"

Millia, still leaning against the back of the cab herself, grit her teeth and gave her an annoyed look. "Would you be quiet?" She said through her clenched jaws. "Don't give him a reason to dump us off…"

"Who says I _don't_ want to be dumped off?!" Jam shouted. "I've had it with this Gear! Before I thought it was just someone to beat up! Now that I know it's a psychotic, homicidal, death engine…"

"We _need_ to get to Berlin to get my wound patched up and then to get out of Germany!" The Russian retorted. "So keep it down!"

However, Jam paused only a moment before her gaze narrowed.

"No."

The woman looked up slightly. "…Excuse me?"

"No, _we_ do not need to go anywhere. _You_ need to go to Berlin." The chef retorted. "Everything since I've met you has been about what _you've_ wanted and _you've_ needed."

Millia blinked. "Wh-"

She went silent as Jam advanced and pointed a finger at her.

" _You're_ the one who started everything in the Schwarzwald! _You're_ the one who got jumped by those assassins, making me step in! _You're_ the one who dragged me along into Adalwolf and wouldn't let me go after the Gear! _You're_ the one who had me do all the work for days getting money to support us both! _You're_ the one who dragged me out of Adalwolf and right into those assassins! _You're_ the one who forced me to…" She managed to halt herself a moment, look to the driver, and then spoke quieter. "…to _kill people!_ And now you're dragging me north to Berlin right where that Gear is going to show up! I've been doing _everything_ you've wanted and all I've gotten for it is a big pain in the neck! Right now if it wasn't for me you'd still be in Adalwolf! Probably dead! And I'm getting sick and tired of it!"

The Russian showed nothing. Jam, on her part, was a bit red faced and fuming right now, glaring at her as she lay there. The motor continued to chug and the back of the truck shook slightly as the wheels rolled over the rough roads.

Millia closed her eyes, bowed her head, and exhaled.

"…Turn me in."

At once, a great deal of Jam's anger evaporated. "Huh?"

"I can't stop you like this. I might be able to move my hair a little, but…not enough to kill you. I have no way of forcing you to do anything I want. If you turn me into the IPF, you'll get a sizeable reward. Not as much as the Gear would have given you, of course…but a reward you'll definitely be able to collect. I won't have much of a chance of survival against the Assassin's Syndicate in police custody, but I'll have a better chance than lying on the side of the road waiting for this poison to wear off. They'll at least doctor my wound and give me a sporting chance at escape. So it makes sense for me to encourage you to bring me to the police. Once we get to Berlin, I'm sure you won't have to worry about getting ahold of an officer. And once I'm in IPF custody and the syndicate knows where I am, you'll be off-the-hook."

Jam blinked a few times herself. A part of her head was clicking, realizing that this was what she had been waiting for. After all, she regretted the fact she was stuck with this assassin a good twenty times a day even in the best of moods. And she also realized the obvious: she was worth quite a bit of money herself, no doubt. Maybe not enough to open the restaurant like she hoped, but more than she'd get going after the Gear. She'd probably only get a pine box for her troubles with _that_. And right now, she was helpless to do anything about it, just like she said. Then she could be done with her and the rest of the bloodthirsty assassins coming after them…

Yet, in spite of all of that, she felt a gnawing in her gut when she proposed all of this.

She couldn't believe herself doing this, but she bit down, rolled her eyes, and groaned.

"No, I'm not going to do that."

At this, the Russian quirked an eyebrow. "…A moment ago you sounded as if I was the worst thing that ever happened to you. Now that I'm giving you the chance to back away, you're not taking it?"

"Honestly, if I hadn't run into you I might have run into the Gear, and then I'd be toast." The chef admitted. "And even though I hated what happened afterward, if I had been stuck in Adalwolf I might have been killed back there. So…I guess I owe you for that too. Besides…"

She hesitated again, and then exhaled.

"After…well…"

The Russian turned her head. "After what?"

Jam sighed. "After…well…after all we've been through…" She finally stated. She shrugged soon after. "Aren't we, you know…kind of…friends?"

Millia paused, and then turned an eyebrow.

"I mean, we've kind of had to be together for a while now… And we've gone through a bunch of attempts to kill us together. We've been living in the same buildings or even rooms. Doesn't that make us at least…I don't know…closer to each other than normal?"

The blond-haired woman didn't answer, but neither did she look straight after that. Her mouth hung slightly in a confused expression. She blinked twice and looked down. She hadn't really thought about any of that. Just that Jam was someone she found herself stuck with that was an unfortunate fact. The word "friend" really hadn't ever crossed her mind: not only not with Jam but with anyone. It didn't pay in the Assassin's Syndicate. Oh, some of the members were closer than others, but not Millia. Getting attached to people seemed like just a liability in her work. And she definitely didn't feel an attachment to this woman. She was eager to be rid of her only slightly less than Jam was. In fact, there was a time where she would have killed her weeks ago to be done with it, and it was only due to her new look on life that she hadn't.

She wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially now when, frankly, she was as good as dead without the chef's help. But even then she had to admit, she felt a bit better inside. It was a foreign notion. She had depended on herself and herself alone most of her life. To actually have someone else offer to look out for her?

It was a strange feeling.

"Look…" The Russian spoke up after a moment. She bowed her head a bit, exhaling. She wasn't sure how to say this. "Stick with me just a little longer and get me to this black market doctor. You do that, and…and I'll trust you enough to keep your mouth shut from there. You can go and do whatever you want."

Jam looked up a bit more at that. However, Millia added a bit more after an exhale.

"I'll even make it worth your while…for staying with me this long."

The chef blinked. "Really?"

"It'll be a bit hard, but…" She sighed. "You…deserve it after everything that's happened."

The young woman was quiet for a moment, but she seemed to notice the change in the Russian. After thinking things over silently for a short while, she gave a nod.

"Alright. Deal."

* * *

Twenty-eight hours later, and Adalwolf was still in chaos. That was to be expected. This sort of thing wasn't going to be corrected in one hour, one day, or even one week. Most of the IPF personnel in the region had been on that assignment, and only a few reserve members were available now. The town itself was a wash. Whatever positions of authority and civil service hadn't been destroyed in that attack were now as shell-shocked as everyone else. The only silver lining to all of this was that it seemed any potential looters and thieves were too stunned and fearful to wage any type of crime in the wake of this tragedy; assuming there was much left to plunder. But they really needed some law and order soon. Especially in light of the fact that the rain was clearing away and making way for a biting cold front.

Ky himself had pretty much taken charge; namely because he had lived through this sort of thing before. He knew what to prioritize, what to take care of in what order, and how to organize people into strengths and weaknesses and use them the most effectively. Living through the Crusades on the front line of battle would do that. By now he had organized whatever remaining IPF officers there were as well as about half of the local police and a few army members, and was devoting about two-thirds of them to rescuing survivors while the other third tried to get some utilities running reliably. There were a few local inns in town and hostels that could function as temporary shelters, but none of them were large enough to include the sheer number of people who had been hurt. What made it worse was the local hospital had been devastated by debris. Therefore the main target now was to convert the local schoolhouse into a clinic, but without medical supplies they couldn't be too effective. Some people needed to get into surgery two hours ago to have a good chance of saving their lives or stopping infection. Yet Ky found himself stuck helping the larger group, using his own muscles to lift off pieces of concrete and steel to dig out people buried by rubble.

As he helped a team of four officers move one large bit of stone in particular, however, his mind kept working on something other than the current situation. Dizzy was still at large. There was no telling what she was doing right now and they didn't have the communication technology working to find out. About the only good thing at the moment was that Sol and that ninja with him had gone quietly to the temporary holding facilities, but that was mostly irrelevant. The killer from earlier had escaped and busting Sol wasn't helping the current situation. He needed to be relieved here soon and think up a new plan, but what? By now the entire country, maybe the entire continent, had to be panicking…

 _Everything's gone from bad to worse and time is running out. I need to think of a new plan and soon. But I have nothing. Those men were the best I could find. Now most of them are dead or injured. I'd be asking another unit to throw their lives away. I'm spread too thin. I need Crusaders: men from when I was still in the war. But they're nowhere to be found. There's nothing to be done._

The added frustration and the situation ended up pushing Ky's strength a bit higher as he suddenly overwhelmed the others and shoved the stone aside, nearly knocking one man over and having it roll on top of him. Luckily, as shocking as this was, it didn't last long. He recovered and shook himself out of it quickly, and then looked to what they had just done; namely uncovered an enclave where an injured, dirt-covered man was lying prone. Quickly, they moved to get him out. Ky, on his part, took a moment to stand away; realizing what he had nearly done. It only made him more frustrated. He could use a moment to pray, to collect his thoughts, to implore the Lord to grant him guidance when he needed it most. Even if he could somehow enact a new plan, what then? How could he stop this Gear? How could he get her to end this…?

Yet as he came out of these thoughts to try and get to the matter at hand, he heard a vehicle approaching. That was nothing new. By now, several cars had been impressed into shuttling patients around. However, he could tell this was a newer one. One that was IPF issue, and obviously not one he had either running communications or transporting patients. He turned his head and looked behind him, just in time to see the vehicle, looking newer and less used, pull up and come to a stop.

The door on the side opened, and not long after, a bit to Ky's discomfort, a group of fresh IPF officers began to pour out. Ky didn't know where they had dug these up as they were needed earlier, but from their regional colors as they neared and some of them looking a tad on the familiar side, the man realized they were Frenchmen like him. It made sense-by now they had to have used up all of their German officers, he thought grimly. Not even enough time to give those poor souls a proper funeral they deserved.

At any rate, none of them looked terribly happy or pleased to be there. That went without saying, but it seemed they were giving the man a stern look and headed right for him. That got the captain to ignore the relief work for the moment and turn to them, standing straight and tall. A moment later, they halted in front of him. It was dark out with few lights sources, but as the nearest one grew close, Ky saw him reach into his coat and pull out an envelope.

"Captain Ky Kiske." The statement seemed as if it was intended to be a question.

Ky said nothing. Nor did he need to. Simply standing there the way he looked made it clear he was who the officer was looking for.

As another IPF vehicle pulled down the street behind the first, turned a corner, and went to deliver more relief, the officer before him handed over the envelope.

"By order of Inspector R. Stein, you are hereby relieved of command and are being put on disciplinary leave by IPF Central. You are to leave Adalwolf at once, secure the nearest transportation for the office in Paris, and to return there and remain until you are called on again."

Ky's eyes widened a bit; his mouth hanging slightly. What was this? "Excuse me?"

Again, the envelope was thrust forward. "The full details are inside, captain."

Ky's mouth closed and turned into a frown. "You cannot be serious. Are you looking around, officer? Do you see the state this city is in? It's undermanned as it is and you're wanting to put me on leave? Especially with the Gear still at large? And what is this about disciplinary-"

Suddenly, the envelope was pushed into his chest. Ky, honestly, was astonished and showed it. Normally he was all business and military in matters like this, but he was getting a distinct vibe from these newcomers-that they were treating him as a subordinate. And he realized if they were serious about disciplinary leave, that might actually be true. To his surprise, whatever this meant, they were treating it like a demotion, almost…

"We were ordered to serve you the papers, captain. No more. You will have to talk to the inspector directly."

The envelope was released as the officers turned and went off to go about their own assistance. The shock was still so raw that Ky nearly dropped it. Not only by this action but she sheer disrespect involved. How could he be getting disciplinary action? And even if it was, how could they be treating him like this? He was one of the most highly decorated, recognized, and respected IPF officers in the world. He hated to sound like a snob, but the truth was he had never been treated so casually. What could he possibly have done to merit this?

 _They're not actually blaming the destruction on…_

That thought entering Ky's mind shocked him only for a split second before he had to quickly begin remembering his strongest prayers to keep anger from flooding him. Clenching the envelope in his fist so tightly is wrinkled, he turned and began to march out to find the nearest intact phone or radio.

 _"_ _What else do you think I was supposed to give you, captain? You were never even supposed to be here in the first place and now command isn't overlooking it."_ Stein's voice answered in a mixture of exhaustion and irritation; if not at him then at the situation and the mess he too now had to clean up. He sounded severely stressed and losing his own wits. The fact Ky was currently tying up probably one of the few clean radio channels wasn't helping, but for once the captain didn't care. He had to know the reasoning behind this.

He was on the same vehicle that had just rolled in, using its private telemetry equipment. That was good because he didn't want to argue anything on it out loud for everyone else to hear. Especially at what he was about to say. While he always deferred to authority, right now he was nearly at his breaking point and struggling to stay calm and proper.

"Sir, I can't help but get the idea from all of this that you're trying to assign blame for what happened here to me. And yes, while I was in charge of the operation, the fact remains the reason this tragedy occurred is because those warships opened fire without my orders. I emphasized time and time again, and there is a record of the same, that the strike had to be done quickly without the Gear being aware of the attack to have any hope for success, in an extremely controlled, planned, and executed situation. Driving three warships into the middle of town and opening fire is _not_ what I had in mind."

A sigh from the other end of the radio. _"You're probably right, captain, but that's irrelevant now in light of the situation. We may be the International Police Force but this is German soil. Their military gets the right to supersede any decision we make, and you and I knew that from the start. Whoever decided to fire on those ships has paid for it with their lives but you know full well that whoever declared the operation is desperate to find someone to pin the blame on. And, I'm sorry…you fit the bill nicely._

 _"_ _You had weeks to set up this operation and among the survivors they already have people declaring how it started going south almost immediately. You were never supposed to go into the cathedral. The area was supposed to be secure and reports are saying there were at least four other individuals who shouldn't have been within a half mile of the cathedral inside. Can you honestly sit there and tell me that you were in control of the situation when the airships arrived?"_

Ky was silent momentarily. He resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably where he stood. An impulse went through his mind. _Lie. Say everything was in hand. Who's alive to say otherwise?_ He forced that urge down. Walking the path of the righteous meant accepting one's mistakes and not shunning the truth.

"…No sir, I cannot."

 _"_ _Then there's nothing to argue. They were forced to fire when they thought the situation was deteriorating and, as tragic as the result was, as big as the disaster was, the fact remains what spurred this on was when you dropped the ball."_

"Sir, right now Adalwolf is such a mess you need me here simply for relief work and a sense of order."

 _"_ _The German government already brought in enough new personnel to relieve you, captain. They want you out of there. And they_ especially _want you as far away from the Gear operation as possible."_

Now Ky showed true shock. He didn't like to subscribe to pride or egotism but this was insane. He was the most highly decorated member of the latter half of the Crusades; the man credited with putting a stop to Justice not once but twice, and they wanted him _gone?_ Now he truly had to keep himself in control. He actually needed a moment to stay calm.

"Sir, you cannot mean to take me off of this operation."

 _"_ _I'm sorry, captain, but that's exactly what I intend to do and what's written in that envelope. Get out of Adalwolf and get out of Germany as soon as possible."_

Ky barely suppressed the urge to yell, even _order_ the man to ignore it. Who did he think he was talking to? He said how much he respected him for his work as a member of the Sacred Order, how he used to be _under_ him…and now he was saying this? "Inspector, you know there's no one on Earth more qualified to handle this Gear-"

 _"_ _No, I_ don't _know that, captain!"_ His voice nearly shouted.

Ky immediately went silent.

 _"_ _See things from my perspective! I was never supposed to let you come here! I had your presence on this operation questioned from day one, especially when it turned out the only reason you were here was on a technicality of an unrelated issue to begin with! You were never supposed to actually head an operation! And after that massacre in the Schwarzwald and the Gear literally slipping right through our fingers, do you have any idea how many people I had to talk to and for how long to try and convince them it wasn't an error on your part and was simply a bad set of circumstances? How long it took me to get them to get off of it? And then what happens! An operation I let you do completely by the playbook and have near autonomous control over, something that they'd never authorize if they knew about, goes completely up in smoke in the worst tragedy in ten years! This isn't the Crusades, captain! You can't just chalk this up as an acceptable loss! Hell, you'd have a hard time doing that if this_ was _the Crusades! I've got not only the heads of the IPF and the German government but also the PWAB wanting my head on a plate, seeking to publicly crucify me!"_

"So I'm becoming the sacrificial lamb in your place, is that it?" Ky found himself responding.

He regretted it a moment later. He cursed himself for having that outburst of anger but soon got slammed for it.

 _"…_ _How_ dare _you. Don't think because I respect you as a man and what you did for this world that I'm about to face the firing squad for you. This was_ your _idea, captain. All of it. Your operation. You may have known better than me but the fact is I didn't cause everything to go wrong. That's all on you. And after ending up with piles of dead officers and civilians twice, do you have the audacity to tell me to be your scapegoat? After everything that happened…forgive my frankness, captain…why the f*** should I stick my head in a noose for you?"_

In a calmer, more controlled voice, Ky spoke back simply.

"Because you and I both know anyone else heading the operation in Adalwolf would have ended up with a situation just as bad or worse. Yes, it fell apart, but you know as well as I do it was because those warships came in that things got as bad as they did. You also know, in spite of everything that happened, that I'm the only man in the IPF who has even a remote chance of putting a stop to this. If you boot me off of this operation now, you're going to have panicky officers taking pot shots at the Gear. You're going to have the German military leveling towns trying to kill it and getting leveled in the process. You may even have the powers-that-be panicking and starting to use nuclear weapons to atomize entire cities trying vainly to 'take the Gear with it'. And all of these things are going to make Adalwolf look like a drive-by shooting, commander. You were in the Crusades. You _know_ I'm telling the truth."

The other end was silent. Ky took in a deep breath.

"I admit, I may not be able to stop this Gear. But I _know_ , without a doubt, I'm the best chance you have. That's not pride talking. That's the fact of the matter. You've seen your officers. They don't know anything about Gears. They think they can handle this like its any old felon or magic user. That's why they opened fire on the Cathedral and you know that was a bad call. You have to let me do this, commander."

Another pause, but not nearly as long this time.

 _"_ _I'm sorry, captain. I've already given you two chances. I can't risk any more and at this point there are no IPF officers left to spare. My orders stand. That will be all."_

Ky opened his mouth to speak again, but the radio already had a blip of static and shut off.

The man's face flushed in anger for a moment, and he nearly smashed the radio transceiver against the floor. But that was pointless. The fact of the matter is if he was in Stein's position and this was his best man from back in the Crusades talking, he would have acted the same way. Even if he had the (albeit realistic) thought that this was a situation where he was in the right, the fact remained that he was asking too much of the man. He was right-he shouldn't have even been there to begin with. He was never supposed to be part of this mission. And his orders were to go on leave.

But this was no longer a question of winking at orders. Even if he didn't have his personal thoughts regarding Dizzy and what was happening, he was needed now more than ever. There were other parties at large out there going for her. And if they found her, they could spur her to do another outburst. Even if they didn't, he couldn't leave this to the military. Adalwolf had demonstrated it. There was no way the German army could win against Dizzy. Not unless they turned the country into an ash heap in the process. And doing so might push her farther…harder…

Ky had to make a decision. He had been ordered to return to Paris. And nothing he could say or do would change that. His superiors…ones he respected enough to follow faithfully…were demanding it of him. And he, being an honorable man, did indeed have a great deal to answer for in his failures. He commanded this mission. That meant even if some bad spot of luck made things go ill, he was still responsible. And had this been a year ago, he would have sucked it up, said a prayer to calm himself, and then gone.

But not today. He couldn't. To do so would be like leaving a prisoner unguarded after giving them a loaded weapon. He may have been violating his own code of honor by not obeying this, which was something he valued very highly… But so be it. If he left, he would feel personally responsible for every drop of blood spilled from this point on. Not only that, but he realized that even if the military or the rest of the IPF could defeat Dizzy they'd only do it killing her in the process. If she was to have any hope now, either to keep from destroying more or simply surviving, he was one of the only who could guarantee it.

Even knowing all that, however, he realized he was still stuck in a bad position. What happened back in the Cathedral proved one thing without a doubt: he couldn't possibly hope to win against Dizzy alone. All of his skill, training, and experience fighting Gears wouldn't mean a thing against power of that magnitude. She was stronger than Justice. Such a concept was already a nightmare made flesh. Just thinking of it reminded him how hard Justice's blows hurt in their final encounter. While he wanted nothing more than to be somewhere quiet, peaceful, and alone with her for a while, perhaps able to reason with her a bit, he knew that wasn't likely. It might come to combat. And if that happened, he had to at least be able to beat her down long enough to talk. And he couldn't do that alone. Even if he could, he needed help. He needed to keep others away from her. To stop what happened at the Cathedral from happening again.

Yet there was no way he could command any more IPF officers. Even if he could, he didn't trust them anymore or himself with them. He'd send them to their deaths between Dizzy and Testament. What he needed more than ever was someone with experience with Gears. Someone as talented as him. Someone who could think on their feet and react as he could, but also be as sympathetic toward the cause as he was. That was impossible, however. No such person was to be found around in any short period of time.

However, at that moment, a thought went into his head…one that didn't strike him so much as hope as a cold feeling in his stomach.

There was _one_ he could rely on who was very close at hand.

* * *

Venom was feeling rather fortunate that he had the foresight to set up this secondary safe house ahead of time. It was something any self-respecting member of the Assassin's Syndicate would do, especially on an operation like this one, but it was also a detail one would often forget. After all, why have two safe houses? But in this case, making a backup was a good thing because the old one was annihilated by one of the warships when it crashed. The entire neighborhood was a pile of rubble. And while the lack of IPF officers meant they could move around a bit more easily, the fact that the city was mostly without power or utilities soon meant they had to pack up and shove off.

Fortunately, there was a hog farm about 18 miles north that made a little money on the side providing facilities for groups like the Assassin's Syndicate. They were a bit expensive, but Venom could afford it. Shortly after the warships settled and the Gear had withdrawn, Venom went about getting out the word to regroup there rather than stay in town. Frankly, even if the Gear hadn't been there, he didn't want to waste any more time in Adalwolf. Rage had done something rather unexpected and had covered her escape with an explosion; not to mention managed to get out of an ambush set by multiple assassins. However, he now knew why. There was a Chinese girl running around with her that seemed to be able to handle herself in a fight and not just be an acquaintance. If it hadn't been for her the operation would have been a success, but as it was she had enabled her to escape again.

Luckily Venom now knew what she looked like from what he heard from the group that was on the scene. Initially, he thought they could handle it, but just the same he ran for the area as fast as he could. As it turned out, he was fortunate he got tripped up by an IPF roadblock. The gesture saved his life. He would have been on the road that got flattened by one of the ships. However, before this transpired, things had already fallen apart. Rage had built up an immunity to the poison used on her and, while leaving her barely able to move, she and the Chinese girl had somehow managed to kill a half dozen assassins and then blow the building. Normally, they still could have been tracked down but almost immediately after the Gear hit. By the time the chaos had subsided, they were gone and the trail was cold. Whatever members of their group hadn't been hurt or killed in the hit were injured or pinned. The only thing to be done at that point was to break out of the city as fast as possible before reinforcements left the town impenetrable to anyone who looked suspicious.

Venom himself had been the highest profile in the group and stuck in the middle of the city when everything went to hell. Not to mention the fact his style made him rather impossible to miss. He had to make his way out by increments, and in spite of the small size of the town it took nearly two days to finally get out, much of the second day spent walking as there wasn't any transportation between Adalwolf and Berlin that wasn't already spoken for or being used to shuttle people in and out. Even walking away from Adalwolf to the hog farm he had seen a near continuous stream of cars carrying the injured out and up to Berlin. They were still going even now.

As he walked, he couldn't help but feel flushed with rage again. If he had been present at the operation itself, he would have had a chance of stopping Rage there. He knew how she thought after all, and tricks she would try to pull. But she had to pick the time to move when he had been away from the bulk of the group. He had no choice but to tell them to move without him and then try to catch up. Waiting any longer would have made him miss his chance. Rage was too good at disappearing. Yet in the end it seemed all for nothing. Those assassins he still had were highly trained and half of them had been killed. That should have been like shooting fish in a barrel once they had her. For goodness sakes, they could have just set the place on fire with her in it rather than tried to go in after her. But they had waltzed into her trap, did everything by the book…a book she knew forward and back…and paid for it. This was more than another setback. It was a crushing loss and a total wash. Normally, if he hadn't the chance to calm down, he'd be enraged.

But two good things had come from this. One was that they knew what her companion looked like now. And based on the looks of her, talented as she was, she wasn't an assassin. She didn't know how to hide herself. For weeks they had suspected that Rage was using her to gather food and supplies while lurking in Adalwolf, but they didn't know anything about who it might be. Now they had a face.

The second good thing, far more beneficial, was coming through his cellular at the moment. (And luckily reception was much better this much closer to Berlin.)

"You're sure it's them?"

 _"_ _Without a doubt. Even if it wasn't a blond with a Russian accent who had a Chinese girl tagging along with her, she's got a bad wound in one arm she's keeping tied and yet she didn't try to get it treated in Adalwolf. She just wanted out and to Berlin instead."_

"She didn't recognize you, did she?"

 _"_ _Nah. I've got one of those forgettable faces. I've been doing this for years. No one ever suspects me. Besides, nothing she can do about it now. I already dropped her off. She's headed to one of the black market docs. I know the guy. He enjoys a good reputation that he doesn't want to get trashed, but for the right price and a vow to keep it quiet…on that note, you didn't hear that from me…he's willing to slip some BZD into a dose of her antibiotics. One for both of them, even. After you take them off his hands he'll simply put them down as having died in their sleep."_

"I'm getting a little light, but when it comes to this bitch I'm willing to sell my soul to raise the money. Much obliged."

 _"_ _Speaking of being 'light', I take it I'm still getting my finder's fee, right? Because I know where these two chicks will be and I've got more than enough time to tell them someone's coming for them."_

Venom frowned, but kept that suppressed. "You'll have your money in the hour."

 _"_ _Then you'll have the address of the doc I took them to in the hour. Pleasure doing business."_

The assassin hung up his end, and not a moment too soon. He had already walked onto the grounds of the hog farm when the call was made. The place was dirty, old, stinky, and essentially featured a big cold mud patch from the fresh rain, even now turning to snow, filled with ugly, smelly hogs. He hated even walking here dressed as he was, but he ignored that as he went around the back of the main building to a smaller shack adjacent to a larger slaughterhouse building. That shack was what served as the safe house in this area. The owners were gone at the moment, so he could afford to walk straight in and they could deny everything later if something went wrong.

Luckily for them, he didn't intend to stay long. They had it. They had where she was going to be and a way to leave her helpless. In spite of what happened in Adalwolf, she was nearly in reach so long as they moved quick. He just had to get what was left of the posse together, scare up some cash, and they could finally put that woman in a bodybag.

He only hoped they had a good number left after what happened in the city. He wasn't exactly sure how many people would be within as he pushed open the door to the shack and into the slightly furnished and insulated interior. Nothing luxurious, by any means, but it would more than suffice for the few minutes he needed.

However, what he saw was a bit surprising.

Only two people were inside. One was slinging a bag over his back, while the other was packing up her own weapon and zipping up the bag for it. Both were dressed fully in alternate civilian clothing-the kind for when they wanted to move around rather than go on an operation. Both froze and looked up to Venom as soon as the door opened. As a result, he stopped where he was. Both stared back; showing nothing.

The man paused only a moment, resisting the urge to reach up and push some of his hair out of his face.

"May I ask what exactly you're doing? And where are the others?"

"Going the same place we are, Venom." One of them answered, a bit sharp and biting. "We quit. We're out of here."

"You can deal with Rage yourself." The other spat.

The man was actually stunned. He was well-known enough in the Assassin's Syndicate, after all, and especially among those who he brought to Germany with him to instill a measure of respect and even fear among other members. For them to suddenly be talking to him like this, with a measure of coldness and hate in their voices, actually caught him off guard. "What are you talking about?"

"We're walking out on this job. This ain't worth it anymore."

"Too many of us have gotten whacked already. I'm sick of it. We stick around, we're all dead. I'm an assassin, not a martyr…or suicidal, for that matter."

Venom took this in only a moment before, behind his hair, his brows creased and his mouth began to curl into a scowl.

"I don't think I need to remind either of you about what the syndicate says about assassins who walk out on a job they accepted. Especially ones against traitor members handed out by the head of the syndicate."

"Ah, take your head of the syndicate bullsh't and eat it, Venom." The second retorted. "This isn't us just jumping ship. The call came in while we were waiting for you. You aren't the head of the syndicate."

Now the man truly did show surprise. "What?"

"Slayer made the announcement. He's fully taking over management again." The first answered.

"Says he's doing a lot of cleaning house. That the Syndicate is in poor shape from the way he left it. His first order of business once he heard about what's happening here is to shut it down. He ordered all the assassins doing the hit on Millia Rage to pull back. That includes us, the gang that already left, and _you_ , for that matter."

Hearing that word, it was hard for Venom to keep himself from recoiling just out of surprise. Yet as steely and committed as the assassin could be, he just heard the words he dreaded for weeks. In spite of his best efforts, it seemed his absence had been the only power vacuum needed to finish the job. Slayer had taken over. And he knew full well the man didn't have much love for Zato-1's methods. He heard him say before how he turned the Assassin's Syndicate into a gang of sadists and sociopaths; how there used to be some dignity and even elegance and nobility in their work that he wished to put back into it. With him in power, there was no chance of Zato-1 ever coming back as the head.

After all…tough as Eddie was, _no one_ crossed Slayer.

But all that meant for Venom was that things were looking desperate. If Slayer was taking over, that meant everyone had to dance to his tune from now on, including him. And if that meant he didn't give a damn about making Rage pay for backstabbing the leader of the Syndicate, that meant no one would be able to touch her. That meant that for all his work and for all his own rage, it was looking more and more likely that he had to just "take it"…

Growing nervous and struggling not to show it, he answered. "Look…this hit is like taking candy from a baby. She's helpless now. All drugged up and waiting to be put out of her misery…"

"Yeah? Well that's what I thought back at the hair salon when Zappa went in!" One angrily answered. "Now he's deep fried and served 'crepe style'!"

"And even if this wasn't Rage and that chink she has with her, I don't care!" The other shouted as well. "I saw what that Gear did! It might be getting ready to tear this whole damn country apart and I don't want to be here when it does! I didn't sign onto this hit to get wasted by some Gear's fart ripping up whatever block I'm on!"

"You want to get yourself killed by Rage, the Gear, or Slayer when he finds out you're disobeying him, then go right ahead! As for me, I'm through taking orders from you on this suicide mission! Go f*** yourself!"

With that, both assassins walked forward, one of them shoving Venom's shoulder a bit as he passed. A bit funny considering yesterday neither of them would have dared to do so. It seemed Slayer merely being in charge again had already emboldened them against the older assassin. Had this been any other time, he might have been so angry at the gesture that he would have maimed, crippled, or even killed them for that.

But he realized such a gesture was useless; just as he realized, even if he did try to cling to power, that was futile. It always was, whether or not Slayer came back. The fact was he was always a great follower, not a leader. He was willing to do anything Zato-1 asked, but to actually lead the pack himself…that was a skill he had not grown up with. In the end, he let both walk right out the door and past him, and leave him behind.

He stood there silently a moment, his mind going over all of what had just happened. The only reason he had aspired to Zato-1's old position was to try and keep it "warm" for him, or to at least carry on his memory. But it seemed neither effort would succeed. Even if he was found the rumors had gone far and wide by now that he was Eddie; no longer the former assassin. Slayer would have him done in as a mercy killing if nothing else. And even if Venom had the power to run the Assassin's Syndicate he realized he didn't want to. He never had a taste for leadership, and he could do without everyone constantly wanting him dead or gunning for his position. Zato-1 always had to practically beat off contenders with a stick. He was content to remove a few of them for him; not actually become their target.

He realized the only thing he really wanted was Zato-1 back, at least in spirit if not physically. But now it looked like he couldn't have either.

Yet even realizing that, even beginning to accept it, there was still one thing he wanted more. He wanted Millia Rage to pay for what she had done. That had nothing to do with the Assassin's Syndicate or codes or honor: it was revenge. And he'd do absolutely anything to get that revenge. Now that he had it so close, almost in his fingers, he wasn't about to let anyone stop him from getting it. Not even Slayer himself.

He knew this was essentially career suicide in the Assassin's Syndicate. And disobeying the head was pretty much putting his own in a noose. But he didn't care. He still wanted Rage. He wanted nothing but her. If he couldn't have Zato-1 back, then at the bare minimum he could fulfill his one remaining dream: putting that Russian bitch on ice.

 _Why not? I've got nothing else and I've worked better independently than as a leader before…_

 _Fine. If no one else is with me…then I'll be on my last official "hit"._

With that in mind, Venom spun around and smacked the door open with his palm with such force he nearly snapped it off of his hinges.

* * *

"It made perfect sense, you know."

The store proprietor looked up a bit at that. While most places in Adalwolf were closed, the owner of this store liked to think of himself as being more resourceful. He only had a basic general store that sold cheap necessities one could get anywhere, for the most part, but one thing he had that most of the areas of Adalwolf didn't and that were currently languishing as a result of was a backup generator to work the lights and the register up front. As a result, he was currently the only store still open for a mile in any direction. And while most of the city looked like it had been bombed, people still needed the basics such as food, batteries, over-the-counter medicine, and the like. He had already made one big killing when the bounty hunters slammed the town weeks ago, like everyone else. But unlike them he had invested in the generators, and now he was doubling his profit as everyone had to come through here.

Granted, the store wasn't quite as slammed as it was before. Most of the bounty hunters had wisely decided to pack it up and pull out while they could. The owner realized it might not be such a bad idea to do the same. After all, it wouldn't take much for that Gear to finish the job and everyone knew it. Panic was running deep, the city was still filled with confusion and fear, and between people turning their basements into bomb shelters and a few putting out that the end was near and this was signaling a second age of the Gears, things didn't look too great. But the proprietor was both a bit more optimistic and older than most, and so he decided to whether it. After all, if people like him hadn't during the Crusades humanity wouldn't have gotten very far. And even though it was late, the small store still had ten people in it, and a few of them were the more adventurous hunters who hadn't yet thrown in the towel.

Yet the man who he focused the most on happened to be someone who was buying a package of hot dogs from one of the working coolers. He looked to be more of the hunter type…at least in terms of how outlandish he was dressing. Some sort of weird costume of blue and white with fans at his side that gleamed like precious metal.

Currently, he was looking at the main selling point of the store. There was a working television set picking up broadcasts from Berlin, so people could stay updated on the news. It was during a down point right now, however, A camera crew had arrived to start taking distant shots of the wreckage, or at least remained focused on it while a newcaster rattled off in German.

His back was to the proprietor when he made the comment.

"What made perfect sense?" The owner asked after a moment.

At once, the man turned around. The proprietor recognized him as a Southeast Asian, although one he had never seen before. Something seemed odd about his look compared to a Korean, Polynesian, or Chinese. At any rate, he adjusted a pair of glasses on his nose that had a cracked lens and a repaired rim, and soon walked forward to the counter. His chest was bare and had numerous scratches and bruises on it, as well as some areas bandaged. He looked as if he had been in a fight or at least buried by rubble not long ago. The fact that he seemed to have clawed his way out and went on with his business stunned the owner a bit. Shouldn't he be in a hospital?

"Coming here. Especially if the Gear wanted to go on to Berlin." The man went on as he placed the hot dogs and a few other small items on the counter. The owner listened as he started to ring them up. "Oh, there were plenty of other ways to try and get out of the Schwarzwald without attracting attention. But all the routes south of it would be too much across country and possibly toward the Alps. If the Gear wanted to get to a major city, they had to go this way. Then she goes straight for the nearest route, but doesn't do what everyone will think she's going to do, which is immediately head to Berlin. Instead, she hides out right here…right in this city. It has so many officers around no one thinks she'll want to stay here. She'll only pass through en route to Berlin. So they're ignoring everyone who's already in the city. They're waiting for someone to try and break in or break out, and most of them are focused on the periphery of the forest. After all, why break through two blockades if she could avoid it?"

He smiled a bit.

"Hiding in plain sight. She waits for them to assume she went south, east, west, or even to a different part of the northern border. Maybe she already fled. Maybe she slipped right under their noses. Meanwhile, she hides where even if people notice something unusual they don't say anything. The fact she was a female helped, as well as looked so human. No one was the wiser. No one was even looking for a female to begin with. Even that dress she wore was practically a habit."

The owner was done by now, and a bit confused. What was this man talking about? He was talking about the Gear, right? So why did he keep saying "she"? Then again, come to think of it, he thought there was a rumor going around the Gear looked just like a young woman. But how would this man know one way or another?

"That'll be 87."

The man began to go for his side then paused. He raised an eyebrow. "…That seems a bit high."

"Times are tough. You have to expect a markup."

The Asian man held only a moment longer, but then shrugged. "Very well." He answered as he pulled out an old wallet, broke it open before the owner, and began to rifle through it for money. "It's not like it's _my_ money, after all."

The owner puzzled over this a moment, before he noticed a glimpse of something in the wallet. It was a piece of identification that came with a photo.

It was not the man who currently held the wallet.

He seemed to realize the proprietor noticed that, and he paused, frowning a bit. "I didn't steal it, if that's what you're thinking. But I'll tell you right now money isn't going to do the previous owner of this wallet any good any more. The only courtesy left to do to him is to do a closed-casket funeral considering how much was left of his upper torso."

The owner frowned. "I don't like the idea of taking money from dead people."

To this, the Asian's eyes narrowed. "No, just taking it from the living. Hence you charging 25 for a package of hot dogs that expire tomorrow."

The proprietor held a bit longer, but then realized he wasn't going to judge. Money was money and it still had its value in spite of the circumstances outdoors. And he had him there, after all. He wasn't really one to be morally judgmental when he was price gouging. In the end, he took the four 20s that the man pulled out, made change, and handed it back to him. This made the man ease up quite a bit as he looked back to the television.

"You're better off getting a warm coat than spending money on antiseptic, though." He added, gesturing to his bare chest.

The man ignored him as he looked at the screen. "One thing still puzzles me. I know the logic in taking this route to get to Berlin. But before I can say this was what she intended or _they_ intended, I have to know why she would want to go to Berlin at all. What's so great about Berlin? It has lots of people and buildings to hide in, flights and trains around Europe and the world, and yet any other major city in Europe would have done. Probably would have done better as that entire metropolis has to be on high alert…"

Suddenly, the bulb overhead flickered. The owner, on seeing this, gave a frown as he looked overhead. It wasn't just that light, but every light in the store.

"Damnit, he told me that generator was practically new." He muttered aloud. "At least the one running the coolers and register is fine, but if that one breaks down… Hell. I suppose I should feel lucky I even got one that doesn't go on the fritz…"

"So… _that's_ why."

The proprietor looked back to the customer at that. For a moment, he caught a glimpse of a smile on the man's face, as he turned with his purchases for the door.

"Insight is a funny thing. Never know when it'll strike." He remarked aloud as he made his way out.

The owner was confused. He nearly pressed the man for more details, but in the end he let him go. He didn't know if he had taken that money off of a dead man or if the reason the man was dead to begin with was because of him, especially considering how beat up he looked and not getting medical attention, but either way he didn't want him in his store any longer. Ignoring both him and the newscast, he looked to check out the other customers before he had to service the generator again.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	19. Codebreaker

**"** **Codebreaker"**

* * *

"I'm still feeling a bit nervous about the timing of all of this, sir. And I should warn you I'm really not supposed to be doing this either. The fact that the one inmate escaped yesterday on top of everything else doesn't help things."

Ky, for a split second, was silent. He knew what he was doing here and what he intended, and it had taken him nearly half of a day to finally resolve to do it. It took even longer to evade the radar of the various personnel members of the IPF trying to ensure he returned to Paris. And longer than that to wait for the opportune moment to go to the holding facilities near Adalwolf. After the mysterious one-armed woman had disappeared, leaving more dead in her wake, they had instead converted one of the big dual track train cars the IPF had brought in for a mobile base into the prison for the higher-profile criminals. (The regular jail still held the more minor looters.) In doing so, they essentially had a high-security installation capable of restraining high-level magic prisoners. Yet that also meant they had most of the high security measures of a real facility, such as electronic remote locks, cameras, sensors, and everything else associated with it.

At the moment, Ky was inside the second of two entry hallways in the oversized car that led to the holding pens. He had taken extra time to clean himself up and doctor his own injuries. He had to look proper for this. It would help with the idea that this was just a brief stop before he decided to return to Paris.

"I understand, officer," He answered. "But I hope you understand that even if I am pulling out of this mission, and even if my own experience with Gears is deemed unnecessary, there is another renown former member of the Sacred Order currently in captivity in here who was involved in this operation. And right now, _everyone_ needs his insight on this matter."

That was technically the truth although anyone experienced with talking with Ky would hear the wince on his voice at telling a half-lie. The officer said nothing, however, but brought him up to the final bulkhead. After putting in some code for the lock, which wasn't actually an unlocking mechanism but rather sent a request to the control room to open the remote lock, it clicked with a rather solid noise to signify opening. He reached out and gave a push to the heavy door to make it slowly swing open.

"I'm not sure how long you plan to be." The officer stated. "I can't bring him into an interrogation area without clearing some channels that you're not authorized to-"

"This will do fine, officer." Ky responded, moving to go forward slightly in a way of showing he planned to move on.

However, the man didn't move. "Sir, this is more than irregular. It's against regulation."

Ky paused and leveled a glare at him. "Officer, do you really feel that I'm about to commit a major violation of IPF law going in there?"

He prayed the lie wasn't obvious on his voice.

"Well, no sir…" The man answered somewhat hesitantly. "But interrogations aren't allowed to take place within cells…"

"This is a dangerous and unconventional time. I don't want to waste a lot of resources, both in terms of facilities as well as manpower, over something as trivial as asking a man a few questions. We already have too much that's gone wrong and a lot more than might if we don't stop that Gear from doing this again. Now please…stand aside."

He still seemed hesitant, but in the end the man nodded. Doing as he was told, he stepped out of the way. Ky immediately walked past and into the room. On doing so, he reached behind him, grasped the heavy bulkhead, and pulled it shut behind him. The officer tried to protest, but in the end he aborted himself. He figured, no doubt, that there was still nothing that would be private in there. They had security feeds watching everything, after all. He may have wondered why the bulkhead would need to be shut unless he thought there was a danger of escape, but it was too late to question when Ky pulled the door shut and let the bolt lock again.

That done, Ky finally paused long enough to exhale nervously before he sent out a bit of his power. Soon, the air was being charged with a potent amount of static electricity. If there were any security monitors or cameras in here, he knew they would soon be glitching terribly. Maybe not enough to fully eliminate the image, but definitely enough to get nothing but static on audio…exactly how he wanted it. With that in mind, Ky looked forward.

Nothing too extreme. Aside from the cutting edge metal, panels, and lights, it was little more than just a row of cells like you would find in any prison. The bars were a bit more ornate and charged with magic potential, all in a method to keep anyone from blasting their way out with spells or using enhanced strength to rip them down. He could tell only two cells were active and, as a result, they had been set far apart from each other, and both on the same side. Ky already knew which cell held who. With that in mind, he began to make for the farther cell.

He passed by the other active one on the way, but whether the individual inside, who he knew to be Chipp Zanuff, spotted him or simply ignored him, he didn't care. He never cast a look into the cell although his peripheral vision picked up the man was on the cot inside. He was directed fully toward the back, turning all of his attention to it. His footsteps were loud in the small chamber, but by the time he got to the cell it was the sound of the bars that really dominated the white noise in the pen. He walked right in front of them, stopped, turned, and looked into the cell.

Sol Badguy was in a class of his own when it came to magic users. If it wasn't for the fact that the rating system for magic power made the crossover point for the top category a glass ceiling, intending for it only to be available to Gears, he would be a Class A magic in all likelihood. As it was, he was considered the highest level of Class B and had been treated accordingly. The restraints on him were made of thick, heavy metal that anchored him to a seat as well as locked his neck, arms, and legs together. It looked more like he had been put into iron stocks than had been normally restrained. They also hummed distinctly, obviously having some sort of magic technology mixed with them to keep them from being breakable by normal means. However, in spite of all of this, Ky realized this was mostly a formality. Especially now that he had calmed down a bit.

He knew if Sol wanted out, this wouldn't hold him.

Other than that, he looked otherwise normal. He had been cleaned up slightly but really hadn't had his injuries treated, what few ones there were. His head was only slightly turned down, accenting his headband and his hair, but his gaze was to the floor and a shadow seemed over it. As still as he was when Ky came to a stop, he almost looked unconscious or asleep. The fact it reminded him a lot of that Japanese woman only added another uncomfortable note to the former member of the Sacred Order. Yet as it was, he was able to stand there silently for a few moments. He didn't bother thinking that Sol hadn't realized he was there. He knew better.

After about five seconds, Ky started to speak.

"Neither of us have the luxury of wasting time on giving each other the silent treatment. So let's not bother with that. I need your help, Sol."

The head remained in its position, and the man itself was silent and motionless a moment before a small smile appeared on his face.

"You never did seem to be the type who knew what he wanted, Ky. You were always content to let other people make that decision for you…" He muttered aloud. "At least until recently, and now you're out of practice. First you want me to help you on the mission…then you talk to me about how much you hate my guts…and now we're back to asking me for help again."

Ky's own glare turned into a slight frown. "If you think I'm not still angry at you for what happened, you're wrong. And if this was a few months ago I'd sooner let you rot in this cell than ask you for help, especially since I'm still blaming a great deal of what went wrong on you. Yet none of that is going to change the fact that I still need your help, and I need it now more than ever."

"And why aren't you getting help from the International Police Force? Did you prove yourself irresponsible with the materials…and lives…they've given you so far?"

Again, the captain had to struggle not to flush in anger. "You know full well that there was little to nothing I could have done to stop what happened in Adalwolf, Sol. How I even turned to _you_ for help."

"I do. But apparently your superiors do not. Or perhaps they've grown so fond of being generally 'liked' by the public and by national governments that they've succumb to the same thing all public faces eventually do: desire being blameless. Being found without sin. Enough to the point where they need sin eaters and whipping boys to take on their crimes for them, like modern day children of medieval nobility, who themselves were nothing more than sons and daughters of barbarians. Why are you so angry at me for a bit of ribbing, Ky? Why are you not more angry at the brave men and women who you so wonderfully stepped down from the podium of living legend and near-mythic hero for to become a common German Shepherd, only for them to find you suited them better as a scapegoat? How much longer will you be able to waltz into places like this and ask what you want when you want? If the Gear was gone tomorrow, they only thing left to do would be to blot out the stain of Adalwolf from the record of the German government and the IPF. And in situations like that, they always need a sheep to throw to the wolves. Sacred Order members are quite good at that. They're used to doing a thankless job, living like dirt, and having things go terribly wrong that wasn't their fault that they have to deal with…all while saying 'thank you sir, may I please have another'."

Ky's hands were balling into fists at this point. Some of it was anger at the disrespect and indignation. But some of it was also hitting home. The truth was he did feel betrayed by the IPF. After everything he had done for them, and after knowing full well no one could have done better and many would have done _worse_ , they looked as if they were trying to cover up for a reckless government action that had little basis in sound logic or strategy by declaring the only one who knew what he was doing to be the incompetent one. That was more than a knife in the back. That was a recipe for more death. Yet he forced those feelings down. There was indeed a time for all things, and this wasn't the time for that.

"My career and life choices have little to do with why I'm here, Sol. The situation has quickly escalated, but what's at hand hasn't changed. I've seen what little footage there was to be had and I saw the look on that woman's face. What happened in Adalwolf, as horrific, nightmarish, and overwhelmingly tragic as it was, and as great of a sin as it was, it was ultimately an act of panic and fear, not a deliberate action."

"You really believe that."

"You know it's true as well as I do."

The eyes looked up slightly. For a moment, Ky thought he saw a reddish tint in them.

"…And does it actually matter to you, Ky? I'm not convinced. Part of the reason you're so valuable to people like the IPF is because you're the best kind of automation one can come by. Legally sentient enough to be a human being, but ultimately just a machine that follows hardcoded rules. For the most part, you do things for the greater good, but in the end all your masters have to do is tell you to fetch a bone. It doesn't matter if you have to tear up a murdering sinner or an innocent child to get the bone. You'll get it for them because you were told to."

He paused.

" _You_ know _that_ is true as well as I do."

Ky did almost turn red, but it didn't last. The truth was ever since the final encounter with Justice he had been thinking of such things rather hard. They had crossed his mind more than once, often several times a day. As such, he couldn't defend himself so earnestly or eagerly.

"…What of it?"

"I believe people can change, Ky…however rarely it happens and how implausible it seems. What I _cannot_ so easily swallow is the fact that Dizzy killed thousands a few days ago and you're willing to give her a loving pat on the head and say: 'there, there…you poor unfortunate creature'. Not from you. You're the sort of man who would fit right inside a Moroccan bazaar. You'd chop off any thief's hand without wondering if they stole a fistful of dates because they liked the taste or because they were desperate to feed their starving child. Now you're willing to chalk up all of that death to an innocent mistake?"

"You saw her as well as I did, Sol. As crazy as it might be, you and I both know the truth: she's not like the other Gears. Neither is she like Justice. She's something different. Do you honestly believe she went about doing all of that on purpose? After seeing how she was nothing more than an overgrown child?"

"Her motivation and my opinion on it is irrelevant to what I just asked you. I don't care if she was a baby who accidentally crawled over a button that launched a nuclear weapon. Those people are dead because of her and she has it in her power to kill infinitely more. The blood of Adalwolf is on her head, unintentional or not. And you think she should just be allowed to walk free as a result. You think she deserves a pardon for all of that."

Ky exhaled. Sol had a good point. Even if a young man accidentally mishandled a gun and shot someone innocent by mistake, he would take them to task for needing to face their crimes. And until a few months ago he saw Gears as nothing more than evil the world needed to be rid of. Why was he willing to excuse Dizzy for what she had done? This was a horrific tragedy any way you looked at it. Even those sympathetic to the Gear, if there were any outside of this room, wouldn't be able to just wink at this. What was he doing?

"Maybe after encountering Justice I decided to look on life differently, Sol." Ky answered. "Maybe I'm starting to see the world in not so much black and white anymore-"

"Not good enough."

Ky was surprised when Sol suddenly cut him off, nearly snapping. He fixed his gaze on him.

"That may be true, Ky…but for someone like you, I would take that to mean you would start ensuring people would get a fair trial rather than carrying out their execution on the field. Perhaps looking the other way when you see a street urchin with no shoes who hasn't eaten in days being a pickpocket. But this? Hundreds of years from now people will still be stating in debates that what Dizzy did was wrong and inexcusable. This isn't something a man who has seen the world as black-and-white all these years is going to discount so easily. This isn't a person who has followed your religious code is going to excuse. Sin is sin, and sin merits death, yes? You always thought of yourself as being part of God's judgment rather than mercy…one who waits for a man to commit his first sin and then is all too eager to brush that same man off of the palm of an 'Angry God'. Now you're suddenly the quiet man standing up for the harlot, saying: 'Let he who is without sin cast the first stone'?"

The captain frowned. "What do you want me to say, Sol? What do you want from me? I gave you the only reason I can think of. I don't fully understand it myself. Maybe, in a way, I see sparing this Gear as atoning for all of the Gears I never gave a moment of hesitation or pity to…"

"I think it's something more 'base and shameful' than that, Ky. I saw the look in your eyes when you beheld Dizzy for the first time."

He groaned. "What of it?"

"I've never seen you look that way at another individual in all the years I've known you."

"I repeat…what of it?"

"I've never even seen you look at any other woman that way in all the years I've known you."

Ky's jaw loosened. His pupils shrank slightly. His pallor, which had been turning red from all of this, suddenly began to pale.

"…What did you say?"

"I'll admit I'm a bit surprised." Sol answered idly. "True, you're a holy man, not a monk, but still…"

"I'm beginning to think I shouldn't have bothered coming here in the first place if you're just planning to insult me, Sol…" Ky said. By this point, his fury was beginning to return, and looked doubly enkindled. "Do you think Dizzy deserves to live or don't you?"

"Calling her by her name rather than 'the Gear' as well…"

"Do you or don't you?!"

"I do."

"Then does it really matter why so long as I'm wanting to spare her life too? Right now, you and me are the only people in this entire town that want to see her live. Everyone else wants her dead. And if they were foolish enough to fly airships into Adalwolf and risk killing who knows how many civilians to kill her, even using that S-Bomb not once but twice, you know full well they're not going to stop there. They might even use nuclear weapons on her and not care who gets destroyed. We know it, and soon the public will start to suspect it. Then we'll have riots, looting, murders…it will be as if Pandemonium was unleashed on the surface of the Earth. And in the end, whatever child-like qualities that Gear has left in her will be driven out and she'll become just like Justice and all the others: obsessed with annihilating humanity. Nobody wants that, but currently you and me are the only ones I know of who are willing to make sure that doesn't happen."

Sol was silent. For the first time, in spite of showing little change to his expression, he seemed to consider things that Ky was saying. As for the captain, he calmed slightly and spoke more slowly.

"You know I don't trust you…not completely, at any rate. And obviously after the other day, you don't trust me either. But you know I don't lie. Here I stand in front of you, having you finally where I've wanted you for years, looking at a half-ruined city and hundreds dead from the actions of the enemy I sought to wipe out for most of my life, and I'm telling you that I need your help to save her. I don't know why you took an interest in this, Sol…but I know it has nothing to do with that 500,000 world dollars. I'm not pressing you for the details, so I'd appreciate the same courtesy. All I know is we have a common cause and right now we're the best ally each other has. So…"

He took a deep breath, seeming to force himself to say the next part.

"Please…help me find her and stop her from doing any more damage."

About 30 seconds passed. During that time, Sol never looked away from Ky, and never changed his expression. So weird…looking at him like this, seeing that posture, the way his eyes stared at him. For a moment, Ky almost caught himself thinking how he could have ever mistaken Sol for human at all…

He broke the silence at last.

"What do you know so far?"

It wasn't much, but Ky took it as his agreement to help. "Very little. It doesn't make much sense that she even came here in the first place. There were dozens of places that could have been better. Gears were only direct in the Crusades when they felt they had the advantage. As powerful as she is, it's two of them and everyone in Europe. But they only went in a direction that took them toward more humans. If they were lying low it would be through less populated areas, no matter how well she can pass for a human…or Testament, for that matter. Everyone is going to be looking for someone with a tail now. They'll be lifting up the skirts, if they have to. Especially since they realize we found them once and we can track them down again. But they couldn't have gone back into the Schwarzwald. Not only did I detect them headed north and so did the spammers that lived, but we had too many monitoring stations to the south. They couldn't have gone straight back into the forest from Adalwolf. Even if they could have, why leave the forest in the first place? They could hide out there for months…years…"

"I see your skill at picking out Gear behavior hasn't diminished, Ky." Sol responded, his own tone even and calm. "But your overall thinking leaves a lot to be desired. You're making a fundamental mistake right at the onset; again, due to your bias."

Ky frowned only slightly at that. "What would that mistake be?"

"You said it yourself, Ky. Remember what you told me?"

The captain sighed. "I told you a lot of things."

"Why do you want to spare her life, Ky? What did you see when you looked at her? Did you see a homicidal Gear? Did you see a killing machine? Did you see Justice?"

"No. I saw…" Ky trailed a moment, then shrugged. "I saw a child."

"What kind of child, Ky? A precocial child? A child that longs to explore and learn and discover?"

"No…" Ky trailed a moment, his mind seeming to work a bit now. "A nervous child. A frightened child. A child who's never done anything for herself in her life that hasn't ended up with poor consequences…"

"What does a child like that long for more than anything?"

The man thought a moment. "Security… Stability…"

"Those are feelings, Ky. Those are the net result of obtaining what they long for. What does that child want? What does that child _need_? What is the only way an infant terrified of other people will consent to be around strangers? Or a child afraid of a stuffed animal be willing to lie down with it?"

Again, the captain hesitated, and then it clicked.

"…A parent."

"A parent or guardian. You're right to think in terms of a Gear, but you're thinking in terms of the wrong Gear. Dizzy is a child. She looks like a woman and she has more power than any of her forebears, but the reason she's still innocent…the reason there's hope for her yet…is she's still an innocent child. One who is coming dangerously close to the time in her life when she'll have to make choices. Choices that will determine whether she'll follow in the footsteps of those before her or make her own path. And the only influence she is seeing right now is one who hates Gears. There's only so long she can cling to her own principles like that, especially since she isn't quite sure if they're principles yet. But at any rate, ignore how she would react in this situation and what she would plan, other than what her most basic need is. She needs a guardian. And what does she need that guardian to provide to her?"

Ky was feeling more confident now; things starting to come together in his mind.

"Removal of threats."

Sol paused a moment, before giving just a hint of a smile. Ky couldn't remember the last time he had done something that had made Sol smile, but he knew why he did. His first instinct was to answer safety or protection. But Dizzy didn't need protection. Adalwolf had proven that. She didn't need safety. Things needed safety from _her_. She was a child. All the things that could "hurt" her now were psychological: hateful stares, calls for her death, men stalking her with guns…ignorant country folk torturing her…and death itself. She wanted to be free of people who could hurt her not because she feared for herself, but because she feared she would have to kill. That was the real reason she stayed in the forest so long even when she knew men would look for her. The forest was "lovely, dark, and deep"; and void of human life. Void of those who would come after her and force her to kill them to protect herself.

But she was on the move now…

 _But that's not her. That's…him._

"He wants her to move. He wants to relocate her. But…that's what she would want too…" He thought aloud. "No… _his_ wants are _her_ wants. He already proved that. He was willing to die to revive Justice. If he sees her as another one of his kind he can save…"

He froze.

"…The note."

Sol looked up slightly. Ky turned back to him afterward.

"Her name is Dizzy. That note found back in London by the investigators. It said: 'Save D', but it was ruined. That's all that could be made out… 'Save D'. It's her. He lives for her. He exists for her now. I don't know how he found her first or got her name, but either after Justice betrayed him or before this happened…in case he failed…he wanted to save her. That's why he wants what she wants. She has wants, needs, and desires, but she's a child and doesn't know how to get them. So he's acting as both the guide and the power behind it."

"And she wants removal of threats." Sol answered. "She wants to be free of things that can hurt her, that can frighten her, that will become things she has no choice but to destroy. She's a child, so how _she_ would deal with it would be to just run away from it. Run back into the Schwarzwald. Hide. Maybe even starve to death or dehydrate rather than risk it. But what would he do?"

"Meet it head on. Just like in Great Britain. Testament isn't a child. He isn't even the typical Gear. He has a mind about him. A brain…an ability to think and to plan…and he knows more than what the Gears know. He knows what humans knew as well. What Sacred Order members knew…"

Again, the captain turned and looked to the ceiling.

"…He led her this way. He brought her up through Adalwolf. He couldn't have been trying to double back earlier. The sky was clear after she destroyed those warships. He would have been able to go straight for the first time in days. He saw something here she didn't…perhaps even _we_ didn't… What does this place have that would be of any use to him?"

"The cathedral."

Ky again stopped and looked back to Sol, who was looking to the ground again. He too appeared to be in thought.

"He could have hidden here anywhere in this city. Many places would have been more secret, more inconspicuous. Think about it, Ky. I hid right under your nose and I'm a wanted criminal. He's known how to stay out of sight for years. Shacking up in the cathedral isn't very conducive or wise, but you _know_ he's the one making the plans. So why hide her somewhere she's guaranteed to be passed by? Guaranteed to be seen?"

The man paused. He thought that over a moment. Sol was right; it _didn't_ make sense. Unless…

 _She's a child…_

 _A nervous child…a child who is scared of the world and knows nothing about it… How do you teach a child? How do you introduce a child to the world?_

"…Practice." Ky exhaled. "If you want to teach a child how to behave at a quiet event, you start by taking them to church. Then you tell them to act like that." A pause. "If you want to teach a child how to be hidden and indiscrete, you take them to a public place like this. A place frequented by all sorts. One that's big and open and wide…"

He looked to Sol.

"He was teaching her. Showing her how to interact around humans without causing a scene. To not be afraid of places like this. That means he wants to take her through some place like the cathedral… But what? And why?"

"Only so that she can look normal enough to go through it on her own." Sol responded. "A place like that is what? Filled with people…strangers…open and public… Somewhere she has to pass right through. Somewhere she has to blend in."

"Not a terminal, though." Ky answered. "They'd be going over that with a fine-toothed comb. She couldn't possibly sneak out on a plane or a train…"

"Watch yourself, Ky. Remember…she wants removal of threats, not to go some place safe. So she goes north, and she needs to be able to operate 'independently' for something; to remove threats to her and to do it in a way without killing. But we know better than that, don't we, Ky?"

The captain paused again. "…Testament is the one who has to make these things come true. He wouldn't force her to kill directly, only to defend herself."

"Or kill indirectly. There's all the pieces. She's surrounded by threats. She needs those threats removed and she can't destroy them herself…at least not at the moment. So there's something here that can remove threats. It's north of Adalwolf, it requires her to be alone and wander through people, and finally it's something only she can do.

"If it was something Testament could do, he'd do it himself and leave her somewhere safe. No…she has to interact with society, and so she must do it herself. Presumably something that requires a diversion that he would provide. It's not yet clear where all the pieces go exactly, but for right now they're all coming together to form one image in particular. The only image they can. Tiergarten Reactor."

Ky reacted slightly to hearing that. When the Crusades broke out and Europe was practically completely destroyed, rebuilding was a mostly haphazard affair. There was no telling what sections of the continent could be claimed from the Gears and when, and, once rebuilt, how long they could be protected and continue to run. When Germany itself was rebuilt, as well as the capitol, Berlin offered an interesting situation as the western half of the city was still running off an independent power supply which was a throwback to the Cold War. The former stations had been destroyed, but as the PWAB agreed that power and utilities should start off in centralized metropolitan areas for easy defense, this was an ideal place to rebuild. And so they started off with a new prototype reactor. A reactor that could make use of radioactive waste and byproducts, something in heavy supply at the time, and recycle the loose materials to harvest more energy out of them. The reactor, built using new magic technology, was supposed to both double the use of existing nuclear materials as well as provide a way of eliminating the rampant waste both from old fuel as well as fallout.

It was the prototype, however. Newer and better reactors were soon built. Compared to them, the original, Tiergarten Reactor, was like ENIAC compared to a 1990s laptop. Huge, bulky, inefficient, and overlain with so many safeguards (both to guarantee its own crude safety as well as to protect it from Gears), it formed a massive concrete structure that was insulated and overlain so many times that its already mostly-subterranean layout seemed to have been forced further underground by the sheer size and weight. Massive and so powerful and classified that most blockbuster bombs couldn't hope to penetrate it. And there was no desire for that to take place because as old and junky as it was, it also was from a time when they could get far more of a yield out of the reactor, and to this day it powered not only Berlin but about a third of Germany. It had that much strength in it: the largest ever made with the biggest yield…

"Why Tiergarten Reactor?"

"Tiergarten Reactor makes bomb shelters look like wood sheds in terms of its construction for one simple reason: it had to be the closest mankind could come to impregnable. At one point it was providing power for most of central Europe, after all, and both because it was so important as well as the danger the new technology represented, it had to be made completely safe and reliable. No Gear can hope to destroy it in a head-on attack. There were no Gears strong enough. Even Justice herself would have had to strike at a key location to have a hope of taking it out, but even the weakest points weren't enough for her."

He paused.

"Dizzy, on the other hand…if she's really what we're all beginning to fear she is, superior to Justice…"

Ky stiffened on hearing that, but Sol went on.

"Because that reactor was made so impregnable on the outside, the engineers let it be a little lacking in terms of safeguards on the inside. You don't bother protecting a kernel when the husk is made of steel. But if anything ever _was_ to crack that shell, the entire system uses resonance to channel the particles from nuclear waste back into a more compact situation so it can be utilized effectively. Essentially the bulk of the facility is nothing more than a great, big, heavily-concentrated and focused radioactive cloud; all focused inside an area of incredible electromagnetism. If that area was to be ruptured, the end result would launch an electromagnetic pulse wave of unprecedented proportions. Easily over the entire area of Berlin and very far beyond."

Ky was a bit puzzled as to how Sol knew all of this. He knew he was a great warrior, but he talked as if he knew how the reactor worked. Yet that wasn't his main concern now.

"And with a pulse like that…no radar. No phones. No communications. No warships. No trains. No planes. No cars. And no energy source to back any of it up."

"Berlin and the surrounding country for a good 200 mile radius gets wiped off the map. Exactly what she wants…what she _needs_ : no threats. The area will be effectively blind and crippled-back in the Stone Age. She could go anywhere she wanted and no one could track her. No one would have the slightest idea where to look."

Ky gave him a darker look. "And what about the material contained inside the reactor? When the field suddenly gives way and it erupts?"

"No one's ever had to deal with an explosion of one of those types of reactors before, but I think it's safe to say the initial cloud of fallout will kill everyone in Tiergarten within minutes. The rest of Berlin within an hour. Then various levels of radiation poisoning extending roughly over the same area as the pulse as the days and weeks go on. But no more than weeks. That explosion wouldn't be anything like a standard nuclear blast. There's nothing in that reactor besides waste; mostly in an airborne variety. My guess is most of Germany will end up being severely irradiated. No telling how far from there will be so toxic that no one should live there safely, but it would make Chernobyl look like city block…that much is certain. That entire structure was based on inefficient technology-a structure designed to be safe by slapping the same crude and cheap safeguard on it again and again and leaving a lot of what was beneath that to chance. It's likely she knows none of this. She has the mind of a child. She thinks nothing more than electronic devices will shut down…that she'll be free of threats. So long as she doesn't directly kill anyone…"

"The fallout will kill her and Testament, though…"

"That's never been confirmed in any Crusader operation. And I'll tell you definitively that it won't. They were built to be able to withstand nuclear wastelands."

Ky stared at Sol a moment. This reminded him of back with Justice; things he didn't understand, but nevertheless things he knew that Sol knew. He wasn't sure how he could be so sure about the impact of destroying Tiergarten Reactor or these effects of radiation, but he wouldn't argue.

"She does this…and they'll know she was responsible. Even without footage, they'll know she blew it up. Because she's the only one who _could_ , conceivably. And it doesn't matter if she gets away from it. They'll find her. And when they do she'll have to die. She'll have killed hundreds of thousands…millions…and done it more-or-less intentionally."

"I'm not sure if that would be the breaking point for her or not, Ky, But even if it won't, that sort of thing will not be an act of self-defense. It will be an act of irrational fear. And it will be met accordingly. People are on edge now, terribly much so, but after that if there is any doubt that every dead engine and weapon conceived by mankind throughout the whole of history won't be employed against her, that is now gone. And if she doesn't snap to hate humanity then she will after that point. Being an already 'guilty gear' tends to slant one's mindset toward conforming to that stereotype. Especially based on her companion. Testament was once a man, and who became a Gear for the sake of protecting humanity. Yet I do not think it was long before his mind was twisted to be sympathetic to Justice's cause. To be honest, I'm surprised that 'child' hasn't already been corrupted."

At this point, Ky had heard enough. "Are you sure about this?"

"I am not certain about anything precisely. This only fits with most of the pieces we have. It still leaves a number than do not fit. He was obviously training her to be on her own in a public venue. How that ties into this doesn't make any sense. And how she, in turn, plans to destroy Tiergarten Reactor even if that is her intention. A direct assault will never work. She may be stronger than Justice but not overwhelmingly so. And 10 Justices couldn't have broken through the main wall. If you want me to find out, you're going to have to start asking yourself some serious questions, Ky."

The captain froze yet again. He was silent for a few moments, blinking. "What do you mean?"

Sol too was quiet a moment as he focused on him.

"How badly do you want to save this Gear, Ky?"

"I don't understand…"

"I think you do. You should know by now that killing her would be no small feat…but trying to save her, both from mankind as well as herself, is impossible for you to do alone. The world will never embrace her after Adalwolf. She acted purely in self-defense, perhaps, or at least the result of a violent personality within her. And even the civilians that were killed never died intentionally and there was little she could do to save them. Yet that means nothing to this world. It wouldn't matter if the worst crime she had committed was pushing an old woman into the mud. She's a Gear. Like I said, the world proclaimed her guilty the moment she left a womb, an egg, or however else she could have arisen. She survived all of that abuse not because her captors felt pity or mercy on her but because none of their methods could kill an individual like her. Otherwise we wouldn't be here. Adalwolf didn't remove the last bit of mercy the world was willing to give her. It simply provided incentive to try more extreme measures.

"Even if she is found…even if she is reasoned with…even if she stands down willingly and reins in her power…she will never be safe among humans. There are precious few places in this world she can live safely. There are even fewer ways to get her into those places and ensure none will follow her. And absolutely none of those places or ways will be capable of being reached by you going by the book. You don't have the backing of the IPF, the German government, the PWAB, or anything else at the moment. Even if you did, the world can't know about you finding her, talking with her, 'spiriting her away', or where she's going to go. One way or another, either in the figurative or the literal sense, Dizzy can only get out of this if she 'dies'. Trying to do that to a Gear even more powerful than Justice will be more difficult than any other mission you…or I, for that matter…have ever gone on. So if you really, _really_ want to save this Gear, you're going to have to bend the law so many times over the next few days you won't be able to call yourself a lawman with a straight face ever again."

This actually caught Ky momentarily. He leaned back; his face clearly growing uncomfortable. However, Sol went on.

"The legal channels, the ones mandated by government, have failed you. From here on in, you'll have to operate as _I_ do. And don't look at me like a child soldier told to cut off an opponent's head for the first time, Ky. You know it's true otherwise you would not be here yourself. The very fact you're even in this room talking to me is already going past what your superiors want. You're starting to realize that there's a difference between what is right and what you have the legal authority to do, but you're going to have to realize _much_ more if you want to save that Gear. And you'll have to start right here, right now. I'm useless to you bound in this cell. I've already told you all I can, but you know, deep down in your heart-of-hearts, that's not nearly enough. You don't need me just for my brain. You need me for my steel. That means you'll have to spring me out of here. You'll have to let a guilty party…a lawbreaker…walk free."

Now Ky truly stiffened. He managed to close his mouth and swallow, but the thought put out so clearly there began to turn his stomach. The truth was a childish part of his mind came in here hoping he could just get information from Sol and that would be it, and then he would go independently after the Gear. But everything the bounty hunter said was true. He couldn't do this alone. He hadn't the power. And even if he did do it alone, would that make it less right? He had already been ordered back to Paris. He was already violating command. He supposed, if there was any sin he could consider academic, that would be it. But now Sol had set the truth in front of him.

Sol Badguy, the man he himself branded a criminal and a thief, the man he vowed he, and he alone, would bring to justice…and now his only hope lying outside of that cell.

"Again, I ask you, Ky," Sol spoke slower. "How far are you willing to go to save that Gear? Are you willing to do things that at the best of times would make you feel dirty and send you into penance for a week? Are you willing to risk your career, your name, and your status as a righteous man in the eyes of the powers-that-be so that you can be what you _know_ , deep down inside of your soul, will make you righteous in the eyes of the One you pledge your loyalty to every morning and every night on your hands and knees? Are you willing to declare this world and its governments sinful for the sake of true justice? For a Gear who might one day become a threat anyway? For a foe you declared the spawn of the devil in the Crusades? For someone who it's perfectly likely neither you, nor I, nor both have a chance of rescuing?"

Ky was silent. He looked down and thought. Sol always did have a way of being blunt when you managed to get him to give you his honest opinion, in spite of his normally reserved manner. And as much as he wanted to get into another argument or shouting match over this, he knew it was true. He almost trembled at the thought that the very act of doing this was a sin against the commandment to be obedient to those in authority-to treat them as if they were representatives of God. Yet he knew even if there weren't countless episodes in history that showed that men should have been willing to disobey those in authority, even those who claimed divine authority, that what was happening here was wrong. And if he stood to one side, if he let this Gear that he saw as innocent die, then he could no longer claim to be a righteous man. He would stand by and do nothing while one was persecuted and killed, or the world was worse for it.

It might indeed cost him everything, and even now just thinking about what Sol was saying was making him feel dirty, wicked, tainted into some sort of soot color. Yet he also knew there was no other choice. If he wanted to protect an innocent life, this was the price he had to pay.

Considering how much the great holy men and women of time had been rejected by the world and authorities, he swallowed and nodded.

"Short of shedding innocent blood, I am willing to do whatever it takes to ensure her safety."

Sol stared at him silently for a moment. He knew he was studying Ky's face…looking for weaknesses…checking for resolve.

"You better think about that hard, because I'm going to put it to the test. Start with this: release me from this cell."

Ky didn't move at first. He realized this was the point-of-no-return. He couldn't very well be blamed for interrogating an inmate, but this was the next level. This wasn't a failure to carry out an order but actually breaking the law. And the fact was a big part of him was still angry at Sol for everything, and as he knew the man did what he liked he didn't really trust him to not escape as soon as this was done. Yet he also knew the man likely could have escaped whenever he liked, regardless of his position. He was only letting Ky do this as a courtesy; to avoid setting off alarms in the process. Besides, if he was really serious about everything he said, then he had to do it. He had a feeling a lot worse indeed would be demanded of him.

Biting down a bit, he stepped forward while reaching into his pocket. As this was purely a field operation, officers like him on site had generic keys to places like this that had been coded to the mobile equipment. And he assumed his still worked as he was able to buzz himself in with it. He soon brought out a card and moved it toward the slot, before hesitating.

"You know even if this doesn't set off alarms, it will immediately be logged. We won't be able to dawdle long."

"I'm aware of how your security systems and protocols work."

Frowning a bit more, he swiped his card through the slot. Immediately the gate deactivated, and a loud metallic clicking rang out as the harness disengaged. Normally it would requires two men to lift off even then, but Sol, not looking the least bit stiff or sore for his captivity, immediately pushed up on it, raising his body up and out. Soon after, he rose from where he sat, again not stiff, and walked right up to and through the front of the cell. Ky struggled not to feel a pit in his stomach from all of it.

"Alright," He said once he was out. "One thing you feel questionable about down…two to go, at least for now. I'll be needing the Fireseal back if you expect me to be any help against Dizzy whatsoever."

This _really_ made Ky squirm, knowing the whole reason he had been at odds with Ky in the first place was over that sword. About the one thing he still felt truly good about regarding him being in captivity was that he had the weapon back at last. Yet he forced himself to grin and bear it.

"And the other?"

"I want you to spring that other inmate from his cell."

The captain was rather puzzled at that, having never expected such a request from Sol. "You actually _were_ working with him? What use does he have to you?"

Sol actually turned one corner of his lips upward. "You can always find a use for a ninja."

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	20. One More Crusade

**"** **One More Crusade"**

* * *

With a beep, the electric field disarmed. As Ky pulled his keycard back, Chipp gave him a look of reluctance; almost as if he expected to get punched in the face the moment he left. However, he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. While he continued to give Ky a strange look, he soon stepped out. Sol imagined he had to actually be feeling a bit better now, considering his injuries had been bound, he had a few days worth of three meals, and plenty of time to rest. The bounty hunter himself had enjoyed it as well, in spite of spending much of his time attached to the harness. He wondered if he should get himself arrested more often.

"You're actually letting me go?" He asked Ky as he emerged. "Aren't you going to…I dunno…piss off your boss if you do that?"

"If you're saying it's better for me that you be back in your cell, I'll be happy to place you inside again." Ky answered, a cold tone in his voice.

Unlike Sol, Ky didn't mask any of his own power in anything he said, and Chipp could literally feel the air grow more charged around him when the captain gave him that look. He actually swallowed. "…Forget I said anything."

"Do you know how to steal a vehicle?" Sol asked as soon as he was out.

Ky gave him a look, but Chipp cut him off with a shrug. "Of course."

"Even a police-issue or military one?"

Now Ky looked really stunned. "Wait a moment…"

"It's a bit harder, but there's not too much difference so long as I don't get one with a magically-keyed lock."

"In that case, starting right this instant, you have three minutes to get out of here without being seen, find a vehicle large enough to carry three, steal it, and pull it up at the entrance to this cellblock car." Sol stated. "Don't worry about guards. You'll only pull up for a moment."

"Now, hold on!" Ky started to protest.

"Three minutes? I don't even have my weapon on me…" Chipp likewise protested.

"Then you have something else to get. You _are_ a talented ninja, yes? Two minutes, fifty seconds. I started timing it the moment you were broken out. Police were on the way the moment my restraints were released. Stop arguing and get moving. There's three men guarding the entrance to the cellblock car and you don't have the edge on them to take them out before they signal."

The ninja opened his mouth to say something in response to that at several points, but on seeing that he was already done and merely staring at him, and apparently serious about the time limit, he frowned, turned, and began to make his way off for the front doors.

Ky had bit his tongue by now but still looked sore. "He managed to escape a field crew before, but this is too much of a stretch even for him, I think…"

"The cameras are still shorted out, right?" Sol answered as he turned and began to walk in a different direction, quickly moving into a jog. "They won't see him coming. I think you give the officers under you too much credit for competency."

The former Sacred Order member only scowled more as he took off after Sol. "At any rate, the exit is the way he went. Why are we going over here?"

"Where's the Fireseal?"

Ky paused, again unhappy that he just had one of his questions answered with another. "Stored up closer to the engine with the rest of the confiscated weapons. We didn't have any other high security areas."

"How far up is that?"

"Eight cars. Right next to the engine."

"Then we're going to have a hard time making it ourselves. Hurry."

Ky, beginning to wonder exactly how far Sol was going to take this truce between the two of them, didn't argue anymore in spite of his misgivings and kept running after him. But it turned out they weren't going anywhere very sophisticated. They simply ran right up to the side of the cellblock car and then stopped. As soon as Sol halted, why Ky was still pulling up behind him, he gestured to the wall.

"Cut us a way out."

Ky blinked at him. "This wall is two feet thick."

"The Thunderseal can handle it, especially with you putting your power into it."

The man frowned yet again. "You want me to use that sword just to crudely hack a way out? That's the plan?"

"We can't go through the front without drawing attention. Two minutes, twenty-one seconds, Ky-"

"Fine, fine…" The man sighed before he quickly drew his sword. It may have been true after all the missions he had taken it through the Thunderseal had yet to be scratched, chipped, or dulled, but it didn't mean he had to like it or try and take the risk. It took only a moment for him to drive his power into it, making the blade begin to glow with a magical aura and snake about with fresh electricity. While unlike the Fireseal the lightning wouldn't help deform the metal that much, it still increased its power and edge a bit. He soon drove it into the metal and sank it all the way through. From there, he grit his teeth, because edge or no this wasn't something most people could do, clutched the hilt as hard as he could, and then began to cut his way into the metal. It was more than a bit difficult and by the time he was done he was sweating a bit, but he managed to carve out a large opening big enough for both of them to get through. He yanked his sword out afterward and, focusing his own strength, he lashed out with a blow to knock the entire bit of metal clean through and out.

Sol didn't even wait, but quickly leapt out from within. Where they had cut through was the space between cars, and right in front of him was a service ladder leading to the top of the next car on the train. He seized the rungs and tore up them in an instant, nearly to the top by the time Ky looked outside the opening. Realizing he was quickly falling behind, Ky returned his blade to his side and leapt through the new entrance, went to the ladder himself, and shot up as fast as he could. Even so, he realized he wasn't going to keep up with Sol unless he put a bit more of his own power into it to enhance his speed, and he only reluctantly did so to a small amount. Even enhancing himself with his own magic would likely tip off a spammer that something was up, but Sol was right about one thing…they didn't have much time.

That much became clear as Ky got on top of the train. They were no longer enclosed inside the confines of the car, and now that they were free and exposed he could hear the sounds of the numerous officers and personnel, most of whom were security guards, moving around as well as their occasional commands in German, French, or whatever. None of them had apparently looked to Ky and Sol yet, and while they were now out in the open, they were hidden by night and the shadow of the cars themselves when they climbed up the ladder, and once on top of the train they were effectively invisible to most, even with floodlights overhead, who weren't positioned high enough to see over the cars. And since Adalwolf was such a small town, they didn't have any sort of tower or outpost that could spot that.

Even so, Ky could hear somewhat louder orders being shouted and the sounds of more rapid boot footfalls behind them…possibly a response to what was going on.

Sol was already far ahead of him, and even when Ky put his power into it, he could scarcely close the distance. As expected, he didn't bother climbing down between each car in spite of the space being larger between the two than normal, but simply leapt over them without missing a beat and leaving Ky to follow suit. Considering the power both men possessed, if one _did_ spot them doing this, they'd have a hard time believing that any of this was real. They may not have been replicating the nature of a Gear to seem to glide or even fly along the ground, but the differences were practically negligible.

In no time at all, the cars flew under them one after another, and they arrived at the designated one. It was purposely set this far from the cellblock car for the explicit reason of not allowing escapees to retake their weapons. Even with the IPF mostly on detail trying to patch up the city, it was guarded even now better than any other portion of the train save the engine. Yet even it still had a fatal flaw as far as Sol and Ky were concerned. It was as armored as the cellblock car, and so a rooftop assault was considered useless as nothing could normally cut through it. And while there were men posted at all entrances, none of them were attentive enough to look up as first Sol and then Ky leapt right over the last space in the car and landed on the roof.

Sol spoke not a word but went straight to the middle and stood there. Ky, realizing what this meant, suppressed another frown as he drew the Thunderseal again. This time, he made sure to only put a minimal amount of power into it. He couldn't afford any more or the spikes of electricity would not only set off the internal security systems, but would likely let out flashes that would alert people around the car.

"As soon as I finish cutting through it, the ceiling's going to fall to the floor and that clang is going to alert someone." He warned as he neared halfway through it.

"Just let me know if the reactors for these trains are still stored in the engine compartments." Sol answered.

Ky looked up a bit as he neared completion. "Of course, but why-"

"One minute, fifteen seconds, Ky."

The captain frowned and kept cutting. "At any rate, it's locked where we normally keep the high explosives, as we didn't have anything more durable. So I'll have to cut through."

"Don't bother." Sol simply answered.

Again, the captain nearly protested, but at that time he finished his arc. Sure to his prediction, the entire heavy-armored ceiling panel fell right in and smacked against the floor of the car, letting out a rather resounding "thud" that sent a vibration through the entire vehicle, including underneath Ky's feet. He could hear the guards posted immediately react, but Sol went ahead even as the section of the car was falling inside, leaping right in through the opening. Ky opened his mouth to ask what he was doing, but it was too late. If he spoke now, he'd be heard for certain by the other officers.

He tensed up a moment later as he heard the sounds of the police group that had been forming before start to move out, as well as the sound of "beeps" and "boops"; obviously guards inputting their codes to come in through the doors properly. It made him grit his teeth. If they spotted Sol in there, it wouldn't matter if he was on his way out. They'd have to fight through other police officers to escape. And that was something he had been trying very hard to avoid…

Yet before he could get too fearful, a bit to his surprise, Sol suddenly leapt up and grabbed the lip of the hole that had been made, and then quickly yanked himself out; the Fireseal attached to his back. Without a word, he turned and ran for the engine.

Ky actually blinked, and was so stunned he nearly forgot to run after him. Even when he did finally snap out of it to move, he soon noticed Sol was moving faster than before and he had a harder time keeping up. By the time the men below opened the car, they had already leapt to the next one.

"How did you…?"

"I figured the IPF didn't bother changing the codes too often. I memorized that one over a year ago." Sol cut off.

Ky made a mental note, if he somehow got through this, to caution the officers about that. They were supposed to keep that in mind. At any rate, Sol soon came to a stop again after running a short distance on the engine car. This made Ky more nervous than ever. They weren't too far from the last car, which definitely had signs of a break in, meaning they were anywhere from seconds to moments to having the alarm pulled on them. And the engine car was the only one more heavily guarded than the lockdown one, although in this case it hardly mattered based on their distance. His worst fears were realized a moment later when Sol drew his own sword, filled it with his own flaming aura, and then drove it into the ceiling of the car and began to cut. His weapon, naturally, did so much easier.

"What are you doing?!" Ky shouted in a harsh whisper. "That's the reactor container! Do you want to kill us all through radiation poisoning?"

"Relax. I'm well in the safe zone." Sol answered as he finished cutting through, letting this load drop into the train as well. When it landed and gave a similar resounding clang, this time Ky heard shouts of alarm and people yelling that "it came from the engine". At any rate, Sol once again moved to leap inside.

"Wait here and be ready to run back."

"Run back? What're you-"

Again, he was too late. Sol had already leapt into the car. Ky had to struggle to keep from fuming. Exactly what did he plan to do in there? It's not like even an engineer would have sufficient time to send a power surge through the reactor. And even if they did and caused a hiccup in power, that would do nothing to the magical backups and all of the men running around. About the only other thing he could do would be…

Ky suddenly went rigid at the thought. _He's not really going to…_

Abruptly, a rather loud siren, so piercing and blaring that even Ky gave a bit of a jump at it after years of honing his own nerves of steel, came forth from within the engine before, a moment later, it began to blare all up and down the train. At once, any police officers who had been focused on checking out the engine or the cellblock went a bit rigid themselves, their own faces filling with panic. Actually, it wasn't long before Ky formed the same look of panic as his worst fears seemed to become reality. He knew what that siren meant…

As the people below started to scramble, most of them rapidly clearing the area of not only the engine but the train as a whole, and more sirens started to sound off around the train yard along with the alarms on emergency vehicles, Sol leapt back out of the hole much the same way as before. The still-heated Fireseal was returned behind him as he motioned back the way he came and took off much faster than before.

"35 seconds. Hurry." Was all he said, in a rather mundane voice.

Ky took off after him readily this time considering what the sirens signified, and this time he wasn't shy about applying his own power over lightning into his speed to run away as fast as he could, and keep his pace with Sol. It hardly mattered this time. No spammer was focusing on the train any longer. They, like everyone else, were pulling back as fast as they could for fear of what could be seconds from happening. Ky himself continued to stare at Sol as he went, his look a mixture of shock and fury.

"That's the warning alarm for a reactor breach, Sol… You didn't honestly just break the train's reactor, did you?"

"Only the outer two walls. The inner three are still intact." He simply answered as he ran along.

That did little to assuage Ky's tension. In fact, it exacerbated it. " _Only_ the outer two walls?! That's still enough to cause a breakdown of the mana shielding the radioactive particles!"

"But not for a good forty-five minutes." Sol answered as he kept running. "Still…they'll have to clear the area as fast as they can and get engineers to work on it right away. They won't really have time to worry about anything besides that until that reactor is repaired, after all."

Ky was practically quivering.

"For a man who did so well in the Crusades, I figured you would have learned to live dangerously a bit more, Ky." He stated idly. "And I warned you that you were going to do a lot of things that you probably had qualms about. Don't break down only five minutes after springing me from my cell. It's going to get a lot worse before it gets better."

The captain began to rue ever coming to his decision back in the cellblock, but there was nothing for it now. He realized he was in far too deep. If he tried to break off now, the only thing he would get for all of his effort would be harsher disciplinary action and likely being barred from the International Police Force or any other profession. At the bare minimum, he had to finish what he had set out to do first. Praying forgiveness to God for any inadvertent harm this might end up causing anyone, he ran on harder.

At their new and increased speed, they managed to return to the cellblock car with a few seconds to spare, and this time there was no reason they couldn't jump right down. The division that had been forming to move on the cellblock and later the secured armory had both broken apart by now. Most of its members had fled, and the few who were still behind were either unloading sensitive equipment or materials as fast as they could or being shouted at by their commanding officers to run while they could, due to not knowing what that siren met. Vehicles, by now, were rolling in based on emergency procedures to help move the heavier materials faster, and a few crews were moving in tandem to help get things off faster via practiced drills. An air of panic and fright was on everyone, not just due to the reactor leak, but also the fact that considering what the Gear had done a few days ago, everyone thought this meant the "great destroyer was back to finish the job".

Yet no sooner had they arrived than Sol immediately jumped down onto the ground below. Ky thought that was a bit bold. Even with no security, they could still be spotted. But he figured that most people would reason if it was him with Sol that he was relocating the prisoner. With that in mind, he sighed and leapt down to ground level as well. As he straightened, he hoped no one was looking around at them.

He didn't have to worry long. Soon, one of the all terrain vehicles for small unit transport, only four or five at the most, suddenly shot out through the crowd, causing some to yell and leap out of the way, and pulled up right in front of the two of them. The back was covered and there was a top on the front, but even in the darkness as it pulled up in front of Sol and Ky, the latter could see the gray spiked hair of the ninja from before in the front seat.

He turned to them with a grimace. "I didn't have time to find my weapons…"

"You'll have to get new ones in Berlin." Sol answered as he ran around to the back. "You're already four seconds late."

"You're welcome." Chipp frowned.

Ky, on his part, looked up again. "So we're headed to Berlin? I thought we hadn't concluded that-"

"We can resume our game of 'Clue' on the road, Ky." Sol said as he pulled the cover off of the back and leapt inside. But before vanishing in, he called out one more time. "We still have to drive through the Adalwolf blockade while they're in too bad of shape to send anyone after us."

Gritting his teeth and suppressing a scowl, Ky rolled his eyes before quickly running to the other side of the car, opening the door to the passenger's area, leaping in (and ignoring the uneasy look Chipp gave him), and slamming it behind him. A moment later, the truck rolled out as fast as it could through the fleeing crowds, much like many other vehicles were doing.

* * *

They were only about eight miles outside of Berlin before Ky had managed to feel enough at ease to start talking again. It had been the first time in weeks that he had not been surrounded by trees and saw the lights of a large city looming ahead of him. The sky had cleared for now, but he had spent enough time outdoors, not to mention had power over lightning, to sense when a change in the weather was coming. This was merely a break for now. After taking so long to transition through autumn, winter was coming in hard. He had a feeling a storm would be there in a couple days.

For now, however, the roads were clear. There were few who were willing to drive even the main roads between Adalwolf and Berlin now. And even if they were, the road was being monitored by IPF as well as the German government, looking for signs of the Gear. Considering the fact she could fly, it seemed almost a formality even with air radar working as well, but Ky knew they had to try _something_. It made him a bit nervous to know he was being watched, but on the plus side it was night, most of the road was dark, and the only lights they were giving off were headlights. If they drove by, no one would spot anything except it being an IPF vehicle. There was some fear that as they got farther away one might start wondering why one of those cars was this far away from Adalwolf or the city limits, and that as lights started to pop up over the road as they were doing now that someone would recognize the license plate and make a call into Adalwolf, but for now the road seemed clear. The only sources of anxiety was whenever someone passed them in the other lane, but even that road had expanded to multi-lanes now, and there was no risk of being spotted anymore.

Ky turned to the driver. Chipp kept his eyes on the road, but he also had something of a frown on his face. He glanced briefly to Ky, then looked back. The former Sacred Order member really didn't care to be working with him. Sol was one thing, but although this ninja's crimes were relatively small, the fact remained he was a ruffian who pretty much did what he felt like, like most of those types Ky had to walk by day in and day out. No semblance of order or respect for it. Even if he disagreed with the course the International Police Force was taking at the moment, Ky still wanted some respect for law and rules. While the German government may have ruined the second operation to get Dizzy, it was people like Chipp who ruined the first. But he supposed he had no choice. After all, Sol was guilty of that too.

Sighing at last, he looked back out to the road.

"At this point I'm willing to believe we aren't being pursued from back in Adalwolf, and that no one is waiting for us for at least the next few miles. It seems your technique, however reckless, was effective." He stated, breaking the silence to the man in the cab in the back. "So what do we do from this point?"

"The same as before." Sol answered. "Find out the Gear's next move."

Chipp grimaced a bit and shifted weight in his seat. "Are you sure that's still such a good idea?"

"Do you still believe everything you told me at the camp site?" Sol simply answered.

The man groaned. "Yes, but that doesn't change the fact that she swatted three armored carriers out of the sky like they were flies. And she pretty much went a bit wild back there…"

"If someone had you cornered and fired a gun at you, would you just sit there and get shot to death or would you do anything you could to escape? Now picture a child in the same situation."

He frowned. "The point being is that even you two don't have a chance against something like that."

"Part of Gear combat is going up against something that by all rights you should have no chance of defeating." Sol answered. Ky could almost picture him shrugging as he said that.

"Besides," He himself threw in. "It's not as hopeless as it looks. I saw it at the end of the last encounter."

Chipp looked to him at that. However, Sol also reached out, moved the covering over the back of the car, and looked up to him as well.

"I don't know how it happened…but I'm guessing it was metal debris. There was blood on the ground. Gear blood. It couldn't have been Testament. His skin is too tough to break and it would have been under the rubble. I thought back to Justice. He… _she_ always wore that armor over her body. I don't think it was just for style. Strong as she was, I'm thinking her body was as soft flesh as the rest of us. Those…I don't know what to call them…'wings' of hers protect her, but if someone could land a blow on her actual body, she might go down with as simple as one hit."

"Well, getting that hit might be a bit of a problem…" Chipp answered.

"And you call yourself a ninja…"

"Hey! I'm all for hitting things before they can see you, but seeing as she blows up a street block if she hears something from 'over there'…" The man answered. "And the margin for error is a bit narrow. Besides, I thought we were trying to talk her down? She'll know I'm there if I try and strike her then."

"True. Still, it's a nice piece of information to keep in mind, Ky."

The captain said no more in regards to that. "Anyway, make sure we exit for Tiergarten the first chance we get. We need to-"

"No."

Ky looked back to Sol when he cut in, somewhat confused. "…No? I thought you said Tiergarten was where she'd strike next?"

"I said nothing of the sort. I said it was the explanation that fit the most of our pieces. But there's still some that don't fit yet and we need to find out how they do. Three people can't cover the entire area of Tiergarten, even if we confine ourselves to that reactor; which we cannot, because I'm sure it will be guarded. It's a sensitive area after all, and all of Berlin is going to be on alert and high security for Dizzy."

Chipp frowned. "If Berlin is going to be such a high security spot, what makes you think she'll even be there in the first place?"

"Nothing but a likely solution and a heading, for right now." Sol answered. "But the captain here said he traced their impulses going north and the only place to hide, even if in plain sight, is Berlin. And I've never had reason to doubt his hunches when it came to hunting Gears yet."

Ky actually looked back to Sol at that. That sounded a bit like a compliment. But more surprising was in spite of the animosity between the two, Ky actually felt a bit honored to hear it.

"Exit for Hakenfelde."

Now Ky really did look confused. "That's practically outside of Berlin and we have to cross the river to get there. That means going across a bridge with a security checkpoint."

"It can't be helped. We have more problems than simply finding out where the Gear is going to show up, and I'm trying to handle it in advance."

"What kind of problems?"

"Let's assume everything goes well. Let's assume we find the Gear, stop her before she does anything else, reason with her into surrendering… Then what? You know as well as I do, Ky, she can't go into custody of either the German government or the International Police Force under the Post-War Administration Bureau."

Now Ky really turned confused. "What made you think the Post-War Administration Bureau would have anything to do with it?"

"The IPF has organized international support for this operation under their backing and even oversight, yes? In fact, the PWAB has been directing this from the start, have they not?"

The man paused. "…Yes, but so what? They oversee a lot of things. I hardly see what they have to do with this."

"They were behind the experiments that made someone like Ozzie into the Gear Testament, right? As a way of creating synthetic Gears? And that didn't happen all too long ago either, did it? Relatively speaking?"

He continued to stare. "I fail to see your point."

"Did you ever stop to wonder about the timing of Testament's arrival, Ky? How it happened so close to the end of the war? That if there was the technology to actually make new Gears, ones not under the control of Justice, such a thing would have been useful a hundred years earlier? When the future of humanity stood upon the edge of a knife? And yet, he only arises toward near the end of the war, when humanity not only showed itself capable of fighting back but the war was beginning to look as if they would inevitably win."

He simply shrugged. "As I said before, I fail to see your point."

"Then try this question. Is there anyone other than the Gears who stood to benefit from the Crusades continuing to be waged? Groups of humans perhaps?"

The former Sacred Order member frowned. "You're dealing in conspiracy theories, Sol. Not to mention nonsense. This is ridiculousness."

"Is it now?"

Sol didn't make that sound sharp or biting, but that was what caused Ky to pause and lose his frown. The fact that it was so quiet, so smooth, and so probing was a tone he hadn't heard from Sol since back in the days of the Sacred Order.

"There have been a great deal of strange happenings around you lately, haven't there been, Ky? Rank aside, you're the greatest IPF officer and you have experience fighting Gears. If there was anyone in the world who could take raw IPF rookies or even non-military veterans and make them capable of handling Gears, it's none other than Ky Kiske, the former head of the Sacred Order. It's not a question; it's a fact. And it's a fact anyone with half a brain would know on this entire planet with any sort of knowledge of the Crusades. And yet you were not included on the mission initially, were you?"

Ky's brow furrowed. "How did you know about that?"

"I didn't. You just told me."

Now the man really did give a start. Yet Sol continued.

"Do you not find it further odd that the German government sends three fully armed warships with little to no warning in on Adalwolf to neutralize the Gear at the very moment that you decide to launch your own operation? Almost the very minute? Quite a coincidence, don't you think? That such timing would be such bad luck? That operation wasn't supposed to possibly last longer than fifteen minutes, was it? And yet you knew Dizzy was in the building for a few days, allowing you to plan the operation out so well. That means the German government… _under_ the direction of the PWAB…knew about it as well. That airstrike was not random, Ky. There was more than ample time to warn both you and your men about it, and yet it was sprung on you in rather the same length of time that you planned to spring your own operation on Dizzy…almost as if it was _you_ being caught in the trap instead."

Ky was silent. Sol did have a point about that…

"You know full well it's madness to take you off this operation, and yet they did it anyway. And they did it as a result of what happened in Adalwolf when you had little to nothing to do with the failure. You're the scapegoat, and you're a poor one. They could have blamed it on anyone else for jumping the gun, and yet they're blaming it on the one man who has a chance of taking out the Gear that they know of."

"What are you trying to say, Sol?" Ky responded. "That someone _wanted_ me to fail there? Wanted Dizzy to escape after acting out that massacre? Why? It's senseless."

"We have the Post-War Administration Bureau…a group formed by some of the greatest men and women worldwide who wield the largest amount of power…formed before the Crusades were even at the end to rebuild this planet in the image they desired and given essentially dictator-level authority to do so. To this day, all the other governments that have reformed are little more than their representatives or even bureaucrats. We have a war that looked to be unending having its tide change a few years after they come to power and gain control over everything. We, therefore, have a group of powerful men and women who have attained a large amount of power that stand to _lose_ that power within a decade or so after there are no more Gears. Then we have that same group start working on creating artificial Gears-artificial ways of replicating the greatest weapons known to mankind with the highest levels of magic power, presumably with the means of controlling them without Command Gears. Last but not least, we have a Gear arise beyond the control of a Command Gear with power beyond that of Justice on the loose…and thus far the IPF has spent almost all of its time trying to simply contain it rather than launch wild strikes like the German government did for seemingly no reason not too long ago. And in the wake of that attack, everyone rushes to blame you and the deceased rather than look to see who gave that order to begin with. Tell me Ky: why was the German government willing to trust you to do this your way right up until the moment you carried out an operation that, to the average layman or government official, looked like it might actually succeed?"

The captain was silent. While normally he was loathe to trust anything Sol said, and he had no love for conspiracy theories that encouraged baseless distrust for authority, he found himself thinking these things over. As noble and devoted as he was, he knew full well he had been thrown under the bus. And he didn't know why until now. Why in the world had he not been put on the mission in the first place? Were they truly that distrustful of him? Or was it something else that they didn't even bring him in as a consultant?

Sol's own gaze narrowed.

"I don't think the three of us and those present in the cathedral were the _only_ ones who wanted Dizzy alive, Ky."

The man stared back quietly for a moment. While he still wasn't sure he bought into this, he felt it was worth thinking about a bit.

"You're indicating that they purposely have been working to keep people from destroying this Gear to begin with, Sol."

"The 500,000 World Dollar bounty wasn't _their_ idea, was it? It was that of several nations independently."

"If I'm to believe what you're saying, then that would mean logically the Post War Administration Bureau has a plan to capture Dizzy. But even assuming the German government is entirely working for them on this, so what? They have no weapon or armed force that can hope to take her down even now. I see that as the biggest hole in your theory."

Sol paused, and suddenly his look turned more serious.

"Does anyone besides those in this vehicle about the blood she spilled? That her body is as frail as that of a human?"

Now, his voice was more urgent. For once, Sol was actually showing some emotion in it…anxiety. That took Ky back again, but he shook his head.

"No one. You're the first I've told."

Sol looked back at Ky momentarily. His look remained tense. He finally eased up after a few seconds.

"…Then it's irrelevant for now. Either way, you know the only thing that awaits Dizzy if she goes with the IPF or the Germans is an execution. Her dilemma remains. As I said back in the cell, Dizzy needs to disappear in Berlin, one way or another. And there's no way it will happen on foot or via a train, motorcar, or public or government aircraft."

Ky frowned. "That thought had indeed occurred to me back in the cellblock. While I agree with you, Sol, therein we find ourselves stuck. What else is there? If she can't walk out under her own power and we can't get her out of the city and to a safe distance via motor vehicle, and she definitely can't get out on any train or aircraft, there really isn't much the three of us can do to get her out."

"The three of us, no." Sol answered. "But you misquoted me, Ky. I only said we couldn't remove her on any public or governmental aircraft."

Ky caught that wording, and soon began to frown again.

"…What exactly do you have in mind? And will I like it?"

"I _did_ warn you that you would end up doing many things you don't like." The bounty hunter shrugged.

* * *

As far as black market doctor's offices, if you could call them that, went, the place that Millia had taken Jam was fairly upscale. One of the intermediate constructions made in Berlin, during the period after the Crusades. While most of the city had survived large portions of it had been destroyed, and the first wave of rebuilding had been constructs out of stone and wood, rather like places in Adalwolf, rather than glass and steel skyscrapers. The small apartment complex that it was located in had long since begun to decay and rot in many places, but a lot of it was still functional and it still received electricity and utilities in spite of being in the bad part of town. It had also managed to stay standing when all of the other old structures had eventually been demolished and replaced with proper skyscapers and buildings, which themselves had fallen victim to urban blight. But as a result, the small four-story building was mostly obscured and left alone by searching eyes. On the outside, it looked almost like a wreck even though two or three of the apartments were still in use.

The actual medical chambers were in the basement, where there were no windows or side entrances. All that was down here was the water heater, the old laundromat that had long since been scrapped, and the area that served as the doctor's workspace. It consisted of one room that acted as an office or place to negotiate business, a storage closet, an "operating room" made from an old utility chamber because it could be kept sterile, and two recovery rooms, all connected by a single narrow hall. Millia was in one of them. It was done up pretty nice. Whoever had originally owned it had made it up to be livable with insulation, paneling, and paint. There was even an artificial bouquet and a few store-brought pictures to put up and liven up the place like a real hospital. The bed was adjustable although not hospital issue, and much of the equipment for monitoring was about 15 years old but still fully functional. Unlike many black market doctors, a lot of the supplies were fresh and new if not in limited supply. Of course, all of this meant that the service was a bit more pricey, but that's what you got.

Millia herself didn't care much for the décor, and she had no need for the devices. She was focused only on her arm. At the moment, the doctor present had pulled up a chair to her bedside, removed her bandages, and was looking over where he had stitched a few days earlier. She showed no expression. Just lay there on the bed and watched him.

Finally, he leaned back and put his glasses back on. He turned and reached for fresh dressings. "Good. Looks really good. The gel I applied is taking well. In two days I think the stitches will be ready to come out."

"I can remove them myself. I've done it before." Millia flatly answered. "In that case, I assume I am good to leave."

"Now, I didn't say that." The doctor answered as he brought up the bandages and began to apply them. "The wound in your artery was one thing. The poison that you got stuck with should have killed you. That's the kind of venom it normally takes even people with immunity a few weeks to clear out of their system. You told me just this morning your legs are still mostly numb and you have trouble flexing your fingers."

The Russian frowned. "I've walked with worse. I don't need to stay in this room any longer. Are you _certain_ you can't get me any anti-toxin?"

"Berlin's locked up tighter than a bank vault at the moment. It's not like you'd be able to leave the city. You're lucky you got in before the roadblocks went up. Besides…" The doctor looked up from his work and frowned a bit at her. "By my account, you've only paid me about 2,000 of what my service is worth. You owe me another 8,000 for this job, not to mention room and board for two."

Millia's teeth nearly barred. "And if I could get out of this room, my fee for room and board wouldn't constantly be rising higher, would it?"

"It's tough all over." The doctor answered with a shrug.

As he looked back to his work, the door to the room suddenly opened. Millia snapped her head up, the ends of her blond hair sharpening into daggers momentarily, before she relaxed again. It wasn't an opponent. It was Jam, shivering all over and patting her arms, minding her own dressings, and holding a paper bag.

"Brr! It's freezing out there!" She whined. "I wish I could have brought that coat from Adalwolf at least…"

The assassin nearly chastised her for shouting out that bit of information. She didn't want to let this doctor know too much about either of them. It was never good practice when dealing with black market specialists. In truth, normally she could have gotten this good of treatment from this man for 5,000. But she purposely offered double the price in the interests of hush money and to keep his ears covered and eyes shut. If he found out how much she was worth to the World Government, or to the Assassin's Syndicate, that would have been chump change. There was something to be said about reputation among the underworld of society, and turning over one of your clientele would definitely make you less favored, but there was also the principle of not being so stupid to turn down a good deal.

"Anyway, I got us some kohlroulade. It's pretty good. I watched them make it." Jam said as she stepped into the room, still rubbing her bare parts of her skin a bit and setting her bag down. "I could only afford about six of them though."

"What about the money?" Millia asked, not really caring about the food. Hungry as she was, it wasn't anything she wasn't used to. What she really needed to do was pay the doctor's bill so she could get out of here. She assumed that was the real reason he was keeping her here and perhaps holding out on her. Unfortunately, Millia had been out of her old profession for a while now, and what small amounts of money she had set up for herself was rapidly drying up. When she had arrived in Berlin, she thought she still had an account with the equivalent of nearly 10,000 World Dollars left in it, which, considering the doctor's currency, would have been closer to 50,000. However, that fell through. The bank that had been holding that cash was crooked to begin with, and the European governments had seized it and closed it down. The only other money she had, not only in Europe but, she realized, possibly the rest of the world, was a Russian account that had the equivalent of 500 World Dollars in it, or 2,500 for the nation's currency. And they charged 20% for a transfer. She was lucky the doctor had taken it.

Bedridden and still fighting off the toxin, Millia had no choice but to rely on Jam again, now more than ever. But they couldn't possibly earn the money this time. Instead, she had given her the addresses (making her memorize them rather than writing them down) for five different Assassin's Syndicate safe houses. After instructing her on how to make sure they were empty, she told her how to get in and to search the boxes for what served as petty cash; emergency money in case a member got in trouble. Unfortunately, she knew those boxes had started drying up under Zato-1's administration. And even if they weren't, she knew she'd be lucky to get more than 500 of German currency out of one of them. She had to try though.

She didn't like the look Jam gave her in response, however. Grimacing a bit and saying no more, she went up to the small table on rollers that Millia used for meals, put her bag down, and then dug inside of it around the food. The doctor finished tying up Millia during this time, then stood up and walked over to her. His shadow over her shoulder made her grimace, but she swallowed and kept digging. After a few moments, she finally pulled out a wad of bills: ones that Millia took one look at and noticed were rather thin.

The doctor took them at once and quickly unfurled them and counted them out in his hands. After a few moments, he was done, and he frowned at both of them.

"Well…this is more of it, but you better come up with the rest before both of you try to ditch me. You still owe me 6,673 for you," He motioned to Millia. "And an extra 800 for you." He motioned to Jam. "And another 1,000 on top of that for letting you both crash here and feeding you, although I'll knock the next meal off." He finished as he shoved the money into his back pocket. He turned and began to head out to the door. "I'll get your painkillers and antibiotics ready. You can eat them with your food."

A moment later, he reached the door, opened it up, stepped out, and shut it again behind him.

Millia looked to the door a few moments, making sure he was gone. After that, she turned to Jam, her look stern again.

She sighed. "I tried-"

"Keep your voice down." She coldly ordered.

"I tried to get it. I went to all five of those places." The chef continued more quietly. "One of them had people there so I couldn't go in. Two of them were empty. That's all I could get out of the last two. I'm sorry…"

Millia frowned and turned her head away.

"I could try going somewhere else…"

"I was never at any other safe houses in Berlin." Millia cut off. She closed her eyes and sighed.

Jam continued to sit there uneasily. She seemed to have lost her appetite as she walked over the chair the doctor had used and sat in it. "I could go out and work…"

"Not a chance. They spotted you with me. They might have eyes on ever black market doctor in town now looking for you or me. That's why I picked this one. His facilities are in the basement."

Millia knew the only realistic chance they had of getting the rest of the money now was by shaking down some people for it that she knew. They didn't dare try to steal it. Not only did the cook seem ill suited for such a thing, or even a robbery, but this town was crawling with the military and police. All they'd need would be the Gear to show herself and it would fall under martial law. Then they'd just shoot people like her on sight without shouting a warning first. The only people they could force money out of…even if she needed to get it from their corpses…would be people no one would miss and who couldn't afford to go to the police. She definitely didn't trust Jam to do that. She didn't have the spine for it even if she had the talent. Yet she definitely wasn't getting up yet. While she thought she could work the poison out of her system faster just moving around, the fact was she could barely walk as it was. She had tried this morning and the doctor caught her, leading to the comment.

Nevertheless, she was going to keep trying.

"I'm sorry, I'm really trying..."

"Yes, I know you are." Millia interjected. "And…" She paused momentarily. She was still quite annoyed at her situation, but she knew the situation would be much worse if not for Jam. As a result, she was able to force herself to say the words that she believed other people would say in this situation. "I'm…I'm grateful."

She didn't look to the chef, but Jam seemed to get a bit brighter at that. It faded quickly when Millia looked to her a moment later, however.

"…Stop taking the painkillers. Flush them down the toilet the first chance you get. Better yet, sell them to street junkies."

The cook looked confused. "Huh? Why?"

"He's clearly sore about us not having paid our bill yet, and insists he can't get me anti-toxin. And yet, he's giving me all the antibiotics I could need and you all the painkillers you could need. Black market doctors aren't that generous with people who can't pay upfront or don't have friends with them who are willing to take what they like if it isn't offered freely. Those things aren't cheap. And considering how I haven't paid him his original price yet he seems eager to keep us here and still feeding us while taking up a bed, this isn't natural."

Jam was still puzzled. "Alright…but so what? What do you think that all means?"

"It means you need to keep your eyes open and on that doctor every chance you can get. And I have to start getting my body ready to leave here in a hurry."

* * *

 _Exactly how many criminals does Sol want me to associate with in one day? I almost swear he's doing this one purpose._

Ky supposed he should be less sore about the fact that Sol was dragging him to make yet another partnership with people he would normally throw into a cell as soon as look at them and more alert for the fact they were wandering into, more or less, criminal territory and he was the most recognizable IPF officer in the world. He had to admit he had never heard of this place before or been here, but he knew the looks of a spot that was a hotbed for the underworld to look at it. And Europe had plenty of places like that. Even accounting for the more widespread destruction of the Crusaders, a lot of areas had been left as traditional demilitarized zones for one reason or another. Perhaps there weren't enough resources to get to it. Perhaps utilities were out. Perhaps they simply had been abandoned due to not having the manpower and weapons to defend during an armed conflict. The point being that although Berlin and other cities like it were mostly functional, large portions of them had yet to be reclaimed, resettled, and rebuilt.

The area they were in right now was one of them. It was night now, and the sky was heavy with winter clouds that were letting down steady streams of snow, and it had apparently gotten cold enough for an inch or two to form on the roadways. Therefore, aside from the headlights of the stolen vehicle, the three appeared to be driving into space, with each white flake a star arching through the cosmos. Yet there were times when the headlights would touch on old reflective signs that hadn't yet been stained or rusted, and Ky was able to make out that they were headed for an old amusement park. He was actually somewhat familiar with it. Back in the Crusades, when you did a lot of your troop movement off the main roads, you had to be. He was sure it had a proper name, but they simply called it "Der Freizeit" during the wars. It paid to call it that rather than its proper title that someone or something might overhear. Right now, he could see nothing but darkness and shadow, but he remembered in older days the skeletons of roller coasters, ferris wheels, and other amusements rising up high into the sky, along with the painted visages of big fairy-tale characters. It seemed the park had been "Grimm" themed. Nowadays, as much as they rotted and the paint peeled, he was sure they'd be rather frightening visages. But he cared little for them.

What he remembered most of all was that there had been a massive underground chamber smack dab in the middle of the park where its personal Zeppelin docked for rides around the area. The airship had long since been destroyed, but Ky had noted during the war that the massive doors were still somehow running on a private power supply. He figured it would make a nice place to dock any airship the Sacred Order could get its hands on, but the opportunity never presented itself. Small wonder it was now perfect for black market needs.

The car soon slowed as they turned into the ruins of the parking lot. With nothing to see but darkness and snow, even with the brights on, they couldn't afford to go too fast or they'd run straight into one of the old concrete moorings for the lampposts. Luckily, like any old parking lot, it was arranged symmetrically, and once they got on a track between the rows they had a straight shot all the way up to the old, worn out, and somewhat broken-down front gates, done up to look like an entry into a fairy tale castle. By now, however, they were worn down enough for a vehicle to pass in if it wanted.

On getting close, however, one of the old booths that guarded the entrance lit up. Not with much, only a portable lamp, but definitely showing someone was there. It also seemed the one entrance that wasn't fully collapsed still had a gate working on it, and it was stretched next to this booth.

"Pull up to that." Sol called from the back.

Chipp exhaled a bit. Ky, on his part, kept his face firm. He had a pretty good idea of what would be coming up shortly. A few moments later, the car slowed even further, and went right up to the gate before idling.

Ky wasn't sure how well Sol could see from the back, but he and Chipp turned their heads and looked to the booth. Sure enough, it seemed to be using a battery powered light, and a rather grim and rough-looking man in German civilian clothing was there, boasting a rather large assault rifle that clearly wasn't reserved normally for civilian usage or even the conventional black market. He leaned his upper body out, aiming the weapon slightly. However, on noticing both the vehicle and the individual inside, Ky could see he hesitated. No doubt, under normal conditions he would point that weapon right out and say something like the amusement park was private property or closed. But with a recognizable police officer there, he rethought that.

"…Can I help you?" His tone was rather unfriendly.

Chipp himself paused. He barely had a grip on the German language as it was and the accent on this one was too thick. Ky, however, didn't hesitate.

"I'm with the International Police Force. Open the gate immediately. Normally I would tell you I'd come back with a warrant if I refused, but I do not have time for such things so if you don't want me to force a probable cause, and for this to get unpleasant and no doubt painful for you, I suggest you oblige."

The man looked into the vehicle for a few more moments, but not as much as one would think. After a time, he put his gun up completely, then reached in and pressed an unseen control. With an electric hum, the gate in front of him gave out a groan, and then began to open up. The man himself retreated back into the booth.

Chipp gave out a snort at all of this, but then leaned back and gunned the engine. Ky himself seemed slightly surprised, before he leaned back and crossed his arms.

"That seemed a little easy even for me…" He mused.

"Considering that it's the biggest guy in the IPF telling him to stand down?" Chipp answered as he began to slowly navigate directly only the amusement park grounds, turning his brights back up to look for signposts. "If you run a job like this on the black market you have to be willing to rub your nose at a few police officers, but against someone like you? And with that Gear around? There's a chance that these guys weren't upfront with all the money and he'd rather collect on their reward before this place gets annihilated along with the rest of Berlin, if he buys into the rest of the hype."

"And if it's not that chance?"

The ninja paused, his face growing more uncomfortable. "He'd be luring us into an ambush to take care of us with the smallest amount of effort."

Ky glared at him.

"But you're so high-profile, what are the odds of that? Besides, you've survived being ambushed by how many Gears over the years? You really think they expect they can succeed?"

The IPF officer merely looked forward, clenching his jaw and saying no more. The flap over the back opened up, and Sol turns his own head out.

"Look for a sign pointing to the Zeppelin dock or the fairgrounds." Was all he said.

Ky and Chipp soon did so, although the former looked for a bit more than that. In spite of being in a vehicle with electric power, his own magic ability allowed him to see out a considerable distance and check for electrical impulses in his surroundings. While things weren't quiet enough here for him to make out individual electrical impulses of muscles, especially since Chipp and Sol were nearby, he was able to check for functional machinery in a dead zone such as this one. And sure enough, they had hardly gone over the opening grounds before he began to detect large impulses dead ahead, something that could only come from a reactor. Yet that too wasn't all he was looking for. He was keeping his senses tuned from something a lot more immediately but specific, such as weaponry.

Making their way through the park wasn't terribly easy, especially not in the middle of the night in a snowstorm. It was hard enough to see the paths mostly meant for foot traffic as opposed to vehicular traffic in the falling snow, causing them to sense rolling over landscape and medians at points. Finding intact signs was a lot worse, and the few times they did find ones pointing them in the right direction, half the time they would run into rubble creating a dead end, forcing them to back up and find another way. Ky didn't really care for how long it was taking to drive around in this place. He knew for a fact that one gatekeeper alone couldn't run a black-market dock large enough to house an entire stolen air battleship, so he had to have plenty of friends lingering about in the park. Even if he didn't, these were the Jellyfish Air Pirates. They had at least six confirmed raids on the flying continent of Zepp even before it had started its revolution, and that was just one country. He liked to think of himself as a talented warrior, and he knew Sol was and that this Chipp weren't slouches either. But even so…

After around 30 minutes, the various fairy-tale cottages and stands spread out, exposing a much larger and flatter area up ahead. In times past, they likely had displays or parades of a kind stationed on an area like this. Now it was mostly trash and rubble spread over a rather wide expanse. It was covered with snow and debris, but that meant little. The snow itself had started hours ago. There could be covers for an airfield over the ground that opened and closed and no one would know the difference. For that matter, someone could have strewn this rubble and debris back over the top of the doors to make it look as if the place had been abandoned. With that in mind, the vehicle slowly continued to roll forward.

Chipp began to slow down the car further, but Sol picked up on this.

"Keep it moving at the same speed for now. We don't want them to suspect we've found them until we're on them."

The ninja turned his head slightly behind him. "You think they're out here waiting for us instead of hiding?"

"I _know_ they are. In this cold weather, I can feel dots of heat all around this entire complex."

That caused not only Chipp but Ky to tense up as well, the former uneasily turning forward and the latter grasping the handle of the Thunderseal. "Where are they? What are they doing?"

"That was always _your_ job, Ky." Sol responded. "You're the one who can detect muscle movements. Even in cold weather all I can sense is a ring of fires."

Ky exhaled. "Just don't move around too much."

Chipp grimaced but kept his eyes on the road and the car straight. Time slowly ticked by as they neared the fairgrounds. The way things were arranged on it, he had to drive around a few items of debris in the way. However, none of them were tall enough to have someone hiding behind them. And Ky himself knew who he was dealing with. The Jellyfish Air Pirates weren't amateurs and their leader wasn't stupid. He had to know all about Ky's strengths and weaknesses. Right now, he was waiting for him to drive right over the top of the airship that no doubt was stored in the dock under the pavement. Because the electricity from its reactor was so noisy, they likely thought it would render a guy like him blind. However, while it no doubt made things more difficult, it wasn't impossible.

Besides, he already knew they weren't hiding on the field itself. They were all on the periphery. Even if Sol hadn't pointed that out, he could have told that from where they would have tried to set an ambush.

After a bit longer, he leaned forward and started to focus harder.

"…Ky?" Sol spoke quietly.

"Two large signatures…definitely the two that were at the cathedral…especially the smaller of the two…" He grimaced slightly on saying that part. "Very low movement, though. There's several others that are barely moving either…including one that's a bit odd. The signature around it seems almost artificial. Wait…" His voice picked up. "That one's moving."

"Out of the car." Sol suddenly stated, immediately getting up and taking up the Fireseal with him. In a flash, both men in front felt a wave of heat as he ignited it into fresh flame, and quickly tore to one side and cut open the back.

Both Chipp and Ky snapped around to him. "What?"

"I said _out_. I sense heat building _fast_."

Both looked forward, and finally saw what was happening. Far in the distance, there was a small tongue of visible fire. He wasn't sure if Chipp recognized that sort of thing, but he with his own military experience did. His own eyes widened before he flexed some of his own strength to kick out for his door, ripping it clean off of its hinges and running out. Chipp himself hesitated only a fraction of a second slower, just long enough to realize that ring of fire was getting closer quickly. In a move only capable for a trained ninja, he slipped up and out from the steering wheel, dove right at the driver's-side window, smashed right through it, landed on the ground in a roll, and ran away just as Sol and Ky were already clearing the car.

A moment later, a crude missile impacted the front of the police vehicle and turned it into a fireball. The three men quickly slammed themselves to the ground as bits of wreckage sailed over their heads, but all three were far more powerful than the average man and had managed to avoid the bulk of the explosion. Even so, the force ripped into them a bit and was a stark reminder of the fact they would have been barbecued if they had been two seconds slower.

Ky didn't stay down long. He quickly snapped to his feet as fast as he dared, especially as he began to sense more movement in the darkness around him from all of the other signatures. However, he and Sol (Chipp was hidden on the other side of the explosion) had scarcely got to their feet when floodlights suddenly erupted over the entire fairground area, showing a bit more of the old technology was still working. Having not had time to adjust, Ky felt a stabbing pain in his eyes as he held one hand over his vision, and quickly whipped out his sword with the other, already gathering power to flow through it.

 _"_ _Hands off the weapons!"_ A voice on a loudspeaker cried. It sounded like a girl…a very familiar one. _"That was a warning shot!"_

Immediately, Ky heard a shout from the side. Obviously Chipp's voice. "Warning shot?! You almost killed us, you dumb bitch!"

"Don't call May a bitch!" Another girl's voice shouted without a loudspeaker. "That's fightin' words for pirates!"

"Um, Febby?" Another girl called. "I think the reason we're using the floodlights is so they can't identify us as the Jellyfish Air Pirates…"

"Shut up, June! You just told them who we are!" Another one yelled.

 _"_ _Would you all be quiet?!"_ The loudspeaker shouted. _"The point is we can see all of you and you can't see us, so if you make any funny moves there's more rockets where that first one came from!"_

Ky and Sol both looked around momentarily. In spite of the heat coming from the wreckage of their vehicle, the IPF officer was sure Sol could sense them. People who started moving produced more heat. But they were right about the light. Neither of them could see a good target. Although, in Ky's case, that hardly mattered. It took him only a moment to lock on to what had to have shot at them: one of the pirates riding a personal mech. Custom made, by the feel of it. He could also pick out the power box transformer that had to be supplying the lights. Still, he could only hit so many targets in an instant and he detected ten young-adults to adults around him.

"Ky."

Over the sound of the burning, Sol's quiet voice was impossible for most to hear, but Ky happened to. Without giving the slightest inclination he had heard, he paid attention as he looked around.

"Remember Kiev?"

Ky thought for a moment. That had been a long time ago, and he had tried to block most of his memories from when he and Sol had fought on the same side. But that had changed during the car ride, and as a matter of fact he did recall it. Plus, as grudging as it was, the easiest way to get out of this was to use them both together.

"I got the power box and the mech. The impulses of the ones at 285 degrees, 340, 35, and 70 degrees of you feel like they have melee weapons. I can get the others."

Unseen by Ky, Sol cracked a hint of a smile.

"Leaving me with four and you taking the rest? Don't think I'm getting 'soft', do you?"

"No countdown. I can sense them getting antsy." Ky simply responded. "Now."

 _"_ _What're you-"_

The unseen one on the loudspeaker had indeed picked up on them both stalling as well as their mouths moving, but it no longer mattered. Suddenly, power surged through the Thunderseal, and lightning snaked out of it in a sudden flash that made Ky vanish, before he snapped up his blade and swung it out several times, although he took careful aim for his first two slashes. One went sailing for the source of the mech, and the other went for the transformer. Yet even faster than that, seeming to move purely in a blur, Sol's own hand grasped the Fireseal and instantly ignited it into flame before spinning it around. The vents on the back of it belched smoke and fire before flames poured off of the blade and went into the ground. In less than a second, the voices of girls, and one woman, crying out in alarm rang out as a ring of fire burst about the periphery of the area, with large flames illuminating four of the pirates in the places that Ky had pointed out: a large woman in a cook's outfit, a muscular one with a sword, and the very two that Ky had seen back in the cathedral.. Those ones were forced to retreat, and no one was in a position to react as the first blast hit the mech. The pilot, seeming to sport a giant wrench of her own while riding the weapon, yelled in alarm as her suit collapsed like a broken doll. The second lightning blast soon struck the transformer, and instantly the lights went out: leaving the only illumination the fire, easily exposing the others.

Ky snapped his blade out deftly again, causing a darker-skinned one to go down in a blast of energy. Two more slashes, and one in a pink pirate's hat and another wielding a steering wheel like a strange circular weapon went down too. Finally, he launched one that split at the last second, knocking over one with a longer headband and one with a longer dress. Blade still snaking out with deadly electricity, Ky planted his feet and brandished it in front of him. Sol did much the same with his own flaming sword, only in a far more casual pose.

Chipp was unseen in all of this, but he, like the others, gazed about in shock and surprise for a moment at how quickly they had acted and turned the tables. He blinked a few times before coughing.

"I kind of wanted to be in on a counter-ambush, but…I'll let you guys have that one. Remind me never to get in a fight with both of you…"

The pirates themselves, those still standing at least, didn't know what to do. Most of them looked rather tense now. Those on the ground weren't seriously hurt. Ky had made sure of that. But they would be numb for a minute yet and he could easily finish any of them with a stronger strike. The one who had spoken on the loudspeaker still had it out, although it looked to topple from her hands at any moment. Sure enough, based on the orange uniform and large anchor which seemed to have been forgotten, she was May…and she merely stood and stammered.

 _"_ _Uh…er…um…uh…er…um…"_

"Now then." Ky announced from his side. "Here is my counter-proposal. You put down _your_ weapons and there will be no more need for blows that will leave lasting damage."

"Heh…nothing doing, Mr. Boy Scout."

Sol, Ky, and Chipp all turned their heads to one of the flames, just in time to see the pirate leader in black jump right through to the other side. All of them remembered him well at this point, and Chipp clenched his teeth and swore at not having a weapon. As for the man, Johnny adjusted his sunglasses, not seeming to mind it was the middle of the night, and grasped his cane.

"Don't think we're foolish enough to just lay down our arms, do you? Not when we all have death sentences on our heads? I'll admit, fighting the greatest bounty hunter in the world and the greatest police officer in the world…with a snot-nosed ninja thrown in for good measure…"

"You asshole!" Chipp yelled. "Come over here and say that to my face!"

"…isn't exactly the best odds." Johnny continued, ignoring him. "But hey! I survived the strongest Gear of all time. I'm feeling a tad invincible at the moment."

"We didn't come here to get in a fight with you." Sol answered.

Johnny grinned as he kept advancing. "Sure. You just wanted to reclaim a touch of your childhood and practice your pyromania, right?"

" _You're_ the one who attacked _us_ first." Ky responded, the lightning on his own blade flashing. "And if I wanted you all dead, I would have begun slaying you with my first blow. Or do you think I lack the power?"

Johnny walked a few more steps, having closed about half the distance, but then halted. An eyebrow raised beneath his shades.

"…Nope. But, again, you'll have to forgive me if I don't really trust a bounty hunter and an IPF officer. Kind of the start of a bad joke, you know."

Sol stared a moment longer at him, before lowering his sword, instantly extinguishing the flame. He turned his head behind him afterward, giving Ky a look. The man frowned a moment, and then sighed as he lowered his own blade and stopped channeling power.

"We may not trust each other, but we all have something in common." Sol answered as he looked back to Johnny. "And we need to talk about it while there's still time."

* * *

Ky had been in tenser meetings. He couldn't think of any at the moment, but he was sure he had at one point.

He was on board the infamous May Ship itself right now; a ship that he had always thought he'd only be on while they were taking pictures of the interior after having busted the Jellyfish Air Pirates if he ever sat on it. But that was quite the opposite at the moment. Sol and Chipp were with him in the ship's own rusted, dented, and somewhat industrial-smelling briefing room, seated on one side of the long table that had been bolted to the floor. On the other side sat all thirteen members of the crew, most of them armed and giving the three of them either dark looks or fearful ones. Especially the ones that had been hit by attacks earlier. The one with the mech constantly looked to one side, as if she wanted to break for it and go about repairing that machine rather than be there. Yet most of them weren't Ky's focus. He was concentrating solely on the man-in-black in the center, legs crossed, hands folded, and leaning back staring at them.

"Let me see if I get this straight…" He spoke after a long silence. "You're trying to tell me the three of you," His finger went out and motioned to each one. "Two of whom are probably the greatest current living Gear killers if not the greatest in history, one of whom is now a bounty hunter faced with a Gear with the largest bounty ever and the other of whom is the world's biggest policeman, actually went up against the International Police Force and the German government and now wants to find the single most destructive Gear in history, but _not_ to kill her or to collect a large sum of money, but to actually 'rescue' her?"

"Yes." Ky answered.

"Uh huh." Johnny answered. "Ok, I've heard fish stories before, but this…"

"Would you prefer the more likely story? That we're here to capture or kill you and your entire crew and collect the bounty on _you_?" Sol asked.

May pouted and made a fist. "I'd like to see you try it! You got the whole Jellyfish Air Pirates looking at you and you're on our-"

The pirate immediately cut herself off and winced as Sol suddenly made a rapid flex of his muscles. Not only her, but the rest of the crew except Johnny. One of them actually ducked under the table while the cat hissed. However, he calmed a moment later to readjust.

"As far as people who sound suspicious, you should look no further than the mirror. You're pirates. Pirates who have made runs on places like Zepp and Russia before and lived to tell the tale, but not without some bruises and bumps to show for it. Having a Gear on your crew would make things much easier on you, wouldn't it? Especially one who can disable three German battleships with ease."

The rest of the crew began to look up at that, but the reaction seemed strongest with Johnny. While he kept his perpetual smile, it faltered a bit, looking clearly there for show in response and not sincere.

"I don't really care for what you're insinuating, friend."

"And I don't really care if you don't really care. The fact of the matter is the Gear right now is a child in an incredibly powerful adult's body. One who's sense of right and wrong could be rather fragile and tenuous at best. Currently, the biggest threat to her well-being is her caretaker twisting her into hating humanity and seeing them as something to destroy or be destroyed by, much as Justice did. I don't appreciate him doing that. But neither would I appreciate her seeing her only human allies as those who would use her to line their own pockets at the expense of others…to see her only as a means to an end. That's no better than what humanity did to the original Gears."

"Take a good look around you." Johnny answered, holding up a finger and gesturing around the room. "Pipes that are practically rusted out. Peeling paint. Bedsheets that are a month from rotting into holes. If you think I'm in this for profit, you're crazy."

"Just because you're down on your luck doesn't change the fact you're a pirate." Ky answered. "Someone has to suffer for all of your actions, even if you think they can 'afford to lose'."

"I'm not about to get a sermon from you, holy man." The man-in-black retorted. "Not from some guy who works for a gang of legal thugs who turned half of Adalwolf into a parking lot. Who wasted men, women, and children and wrote the whole thing off as collateral damage. You three are trying to look down your nose at me? While you let the Russian mob own most of Asia? Warlords break Africa into smaller and smaller pieces? Governments leave families on the wastes of the old world to rot? Zepp pretty much muscle around anyone, including its own people?" He gestured around him. "These girls had nothing. Not a damn thing. Half of them were looking at careers in prostitution and to die from STDs at 17. But that sort of thing isn't worth your time. Not so long as there's a law on the books for you…" He pointed to Ky. "Or no money in it for you." He pointed to Sol. "So don't sit there and try to make it look like _I'm_ the questionable one here. Not only do I want to aid that Gear, I'm one of the only people on Earth who should. Because unlike the rest of you, I'm willing to give her a chance."

"Hey, don't lump me in with these two." Chipp suddenly spoke up. "I'm on this side too, you know. I agree with you." He turned his head to the other two. "I was human sh't myself for most of my life. Someone gave me a second chance. To me that means the Gear deserves a first one."

"We all have in common that we're willing to do what the world is not any try and assist this Gear." Sol answered. "We also have one other thing in common…alone, we haven't the slightest chance of success. Together, we might just be able to pull this off. Separately each one of us can fight off a division and work the near impossible. Together, we can possibly get her out of Berlin and the rest of Germany in one piece. Therefore this isn't a matter of your degree of trust but how committed you are to doing this, because after seeing what happened to Adalwolf you should know neither you, your first mate, nor the rest of your crew with you have a chance of beating her if she needs to have the fight knocked out of her, so to speak."

Johnny was silent. May frowned and looked ready to pout, but said no more. Just glared forward a moment, then looked to her captain. The rest of the crew did much the same. The man-in-black bowed his head and adjusted his glasses a bit. Afterward, he raised it again and smiled wider, this time more genuine.

"Alright, you've got me. I'm daring and bold, not an idiot. I don't think I could go toe-to-toe with her emo bodyguard and come out on top, let alone her. Maybe two members of the Sacred Order will have more luck."

"Johnny!" May began to protest.

He looked up slightly. "Alright girls…if you have any dispute about this, I'm willing to hear from you now. But if you do, I hope you got a better idea. Right now I don't even know where to look for her."

May huffed for a moment, but simply clenched her jaw and made her hands into fists. She had nothing. Neither did the others. Many of them looked disagreeable about this, but it seemed they were stuck too.

He looked back down. "Then it's settled, partners."

Ky grimaced a bit on hearing that, turning his head down to one side.

"So…" The pirate went on, leaning forward and folding his hands in front of himself on the table. "I take it the main reason you need us is for the May Ship, so just tell us where to pick her up and we'll do it right now."

"No idea." Sol answered.

May, who had continued to look frustrated until now, suddenly looked up. "Huh? I thought you told us she was going for Tiergarten?"

"That's only the going theory." Ky interjected, turning his own head back up. "What we know is that she has to have been practicing being around a lot of people, that she headed north, and that you confirmed she's in Berlin. Beyond that, we have nothing. Just theories."

"I may be good with physics on paper but I'm out of practice, especially in regards to larger reactors." Sol added. "I was hoping you or your crew could help point out how she could blow up Tiergarten Reactor."

"Well, here's your short answer…" The one who had driven the mech suddenly spoke up. "She can't. Every military unit in Europe could unload everything they had at that that reactor and all they'd end up with is the most overelaborate way of disarming themselves in history. The outside of that thing is practically diamond. Several feet thick of it."

"What about throwing cold water on hot metal?" Chipp suggested.

This garnered a few curious looks.

"Come on, haven't you ever seen that one movie…? Doesn't she make a lot of ice?"

"There's no way she can cast a spell on anything inside that reactor." Ky answered. "I know that for a fact, at the bare minimum. The outer shell was meant to withstand magical bombardment first and foremost. It uses its own radiation field as well as the alloy put into making the shell to naturally negate magic. It has an innate ward on it. Perhaps if there were half a dozen of her concentrating they could get _something_ through that wall…"

"That would be pointless." Sol answered. "The inside of an older model like that is practically containing a miniature sun. A block of ice thrown in would be like a drop of water on a bonfire. Nothing short of directing the entire river into that reactor would cause a problem, and at that point it would cool the reactor to where we wouldn't have to worry in the first place."

"Sounds to me like you're all on a snipe hunt." Johnny answered. "She's in Berlin hiding in plain sight, just like she was in Adalwolf. Only this time she doesn't have to worry about the military leveling the city to get to her."

Ky frowned. "I wish I could believe that…"

"You said it yourself. She's practicing how to blend in with people. My guess is her caretaker wants her to be around lots and lots of human shields."

"Her 'caretaker' is almost at the point where he would want the military to open fire on her in such a situation if only to kill more humans." Sol retorted. "And the level of safety is irrelevant. He wants her free and in the clear. This is his chance to do so. The power over ice magic she wields is considerable, and the idea of thermal stress damaging that reactor appeals to me. I believe there has to be a connection."

"You just admitted that fusion reactor is too strong to be damaged even by her, and I just told you there's no way she can cool the reactor through her magic power. She can't even get any ice in." Ky responded. "Maybe he's right. Maybe this is the wrong hunch."

"Hydrothermic insulation."

Again, the room turned, this time to, of all people, May. Her head was bowed slightly, seeming to be thinking a bit.

"Huh?" One of her crewmates, that Ky had picked up was named "April", answered.

She turned her head back up. "Remember that one time where you used up all the reserve water for the showers?"

April looked up. "Oh yeah! You had just finished shampooing your hair and you got so mad that you yanked out your anchor and smacked the pipes in the ceiling trying to get more out, and you saw some water coming out of it and you yelled: 'There's still water coming out of these pipes! Why can't I rinse?!'"

May gave her a cold stare. April immediately shrank down a bit.

"Er…sorry. But you did."

The first mate rolled her eyes and looked forward. "The point is I wanted to know why and Novel told me it was hydrothermic insulation. On certain pipes in the ship where we wanted insulation but still wanted it to lose heat we used a layer of water because it was so hard to change the temperature of. She said normally we'd just use asbestos or something, but we recycled parts from reactors before and that's what they used in larger-scale applications because the water could be constantly changed."

Sol looked up a bit. "I had almost forgotten about that. Probably because it wasn't a reactor design. Before they decided to start using sealed asbestos again for lack of a better insulator, mankind didn't have a whole lot of access to good insulators. They opted for a giant-scale one for Tiergarten Reactor, I think, in order to help insulate the reactor itself. They needed to keep the water hot…it would be boiling if not for the pressure in the insulated walls. Definitely vaporized. But the fluid properties helped keep one side cool and the other hot so it wouldn't melt right through while keeping it from losing too much extra heat from the reactor itself."

"But they'd still need to somehow cool the water, and that's inside the shell." Ky spoke up. "Still impervious."

"…Not quite."

The group looked to Johnny this time. "You don't get into this business without knowing a thing or two about how to exploit public works when the time is right, nor how to run your own ship. I've looked over maps of Berlin a few times trying to find places to siphon off of public utilities for free recharges." He turned his head to one side. "June, we still have those charts on Berlin handy, right? Bring some of them out."

The purple-haired girl in the mix rose and went over to one side. The other pirates rapidly cleared from the table. A moment later, she came back with a rolled up paper and unfurled it on the tabletop, soon revealing a map of Berlin. She had a few other accessory charts as well, and while she put those out Johnny continued.

"The pumping stations are the keys to this part. Constantly keep the water in the shell in motion, even if it's in vapor form, to keep it warm and keep absorbing heat. Those things are far more mechanical and run on separate lines as auxiliary, as they're a first line of defense against a reactor meltdown and need service. The ones for Tiergarten Reactor are strong to be sure, but newer models with less emphasis on being overdone… My guess is they're only rated for conventional weapons. The line shielding is definitely weaker than that of the main reactor shell."

"Do you have a guess at a rating?" Sol answered as he leaned in closer to the table, along with Chipp and Ky.

"The main shell on that reactor is the strongest ever. 4,000 mgtsf." The engineer in the group spoke up again. "These things…" She shook her head. "Much less. No higher than 200 mgtsf at the most."

"Strong enough for any human or existing weapon that wouldn't leave a lot more problems in its wake than Tiergarten Reactor blowing up." Ky answered with an uncomfortable look. "But near the threshold of Justice's limit if not below it. This new one…it won't be a problem at all."

"She freezes the line, either backing up the fluid or sending ice into the pressurized steam." Sol mused. "And if she has sufficient power to maintain it in ice form, it will cool the surfaces of the insulating walls rapidly and sharply enough to fracture. The heat expands and rapidly melts beyond…the chain reaction becomes impossible to stop…"

"And Berlin gets irradiated." Chipp finished.

"So do we." Johnny added. "With the EMP from that thing, the May Ship will be a ton of scrap metal along with every other airship, plane, train, car, motorcycle, boat, or anything else. So either we're stuck here to get irradiated as well, or we crash and burn trying to escape."

Ky felt a wave of discomfort at all of this. Apparently there was a way for a Gear like Dizzy to destroy Tiergarten Reactor. And he realized full well if that was her objective, countless people would die if she succeeded…including himself. He was well within range. And if this sort of knowledge became public, it would only make things much worse. Not only would it cause a mass panic and exodus that would kill far more than Adalwolf had, but it would give ample opportunity to carry the deed out. He doubted anyone even had the presence of mind to guard the reactor or the pumping stations that much. When it could take a Tsar Bomba, after all, then why worry? Especially since the pump stations could be compensated for.

He hadn't wanted to believe Sol back in the cellblock, and even now he didn't have definite proof. But he was beginning to subscribe mentally more and more all the time to the idea that it was as Sol had feared. It made the most sense and it was what Testament would do. A chance to get Dizzy to vanish while at the same time getting his personal revenge on millions of humans. And the end result would be mankind would never forgive her and pursue her out of a desire purely for survival until she was dead, leading to countless others dying in the process. The only way she'd be able to survive would be by becoming a new Justice herself…

"Alright. So she has both the power to destroy Tiergarten Reactor as well as the means to do so. Or possibly. But that doesn't tell us where to find her or when."

"That might be more of a problem." Johnny answered as he leaned over the map. He tapped a few locations. "Three different pumping stations are active. There's two others but they've been decommissioned for years, so they're not worth considering. But of the three that are active, all of them are located in areas off limits to public. The one's underground and there's a perimeter around the other two. Radioactive wastewater runoff, and all that?"

"You really expect her to obey a few fences and padlocks?" Chipp asked.

"It's a bit more than that. Whole place has security cameras and alarm systems. Found that out the hard way a couple years back. It may not be a bank vault, but she can't just waltz in. She'll have to flex some of her muscles just to get to the target and she'll alert someone in that time. Especially now with people on every block. Besides…look. This one's practically on an island."

"This one looks like it's out in the open…" May mused as she leaned over and pointed at one.

"No way she could get to that one without being seen. At least not tomorrow." April spoke up.

Again, the view of the room shifted to her. She seemed a bit uncomfortable to suddenly find everyone looking at her.

"How can you be sure?" Sol answered.

She swallowed a bit at the stares, then leaned over and tapped the chart. "That's Tiergarten Theater right there only a block away from the perimeter and tomorrow is December 22nd. Haven't you all paid attention to the news?"

"What's on the news?" Ky asked.

"The city is doing its annual winter premiere of 'The Nutcracker' tomorrow night and Berlin puts on the biggest production of it every year. The German prime minister has sunk more money into this production than ever to try and bring people in to offset everyone leaving on account of the Gear, not to mention that's why there's even more security in Berlin already than usual. To demonstrate how safe it is he's showing up himself. That whole area is going to be mobbed with security. Probably IPF members too. That's the last place someone like her would want to go."

Hearing this, however, only made Sol and Ky more uneasy. They actually swapped a look, and the others, noticing this, tensed a bit themselves.

"But perhaps the first place a Gear like Testament would want to go." Sol grimly answered.

"Being used to being around people…in a big public area…like the biggest theater in Berlin." Ky darkly continued.

"And only a block…maybe less…" Sol mused. "Poor city planning, for the most part. But following the Crusades people just pretty much rebuilt where they could…"

"Uh, hello?" May suddenly spoke up. "Didn't you hear what April said? That place is going to have soldiers and military men all over the place." She frowned. "You're not suggesting Dizzy will rip right through them, are you? That goth guy might be a jerk, but she-"

"The secret of a magic trick is to do something over a small area, keeping your audience's focus narrowed and zeroed in on the wrong thing." Sol cut off.

"There's _two_ Gears to worry about, not one." Ky added. "My guess is the prime minister may be there, but he won't be in the theater. Not in a place so confined he can't guard it properly. He'll probably be more on the perimeter with the street crowds watching the big projection screens. Perhaps some place in one of the skyscrapers surrounding the theater and watching from an executive suite with much higher security and armoring. All that security will be enough to stop any human assailant, but not Testament."

"He's weaker than you think. His body still hasn't recovered too well from Justice even after all these months." Sol answered. "Even Chipp was able to give him a bit of a time, even if only a little."

"You flatter me." The ninja grumbled.

"But even weakened he'll still be able to either succeed in his goal or come close to it. Either way, every last one of those soldiers and guards will be going after him. Everywhere else will enact evacuation procedures and emergency crowd control. Get people out and away as fast as they can. And in the course of doing so, they'll open whatever access routes they can to get people out so they don't trample each other to death when they hear about the Gear…including routes through areas like this one."

April rubbed her own chin looking this over. "I have a hard time believing they wouldn't have monitors or snipers or something on the roofs all through that area. But…with all the foot traffic, she'd easily be able to get here." She leaned over and pointed to an oblong lot.

"She'd be in the open for that." Johnny answered.

"I haven't updated that chart yet." The one who put it out spoke up. "There's a parking garage under construction. Nearly finished."

"Ah." The pirate answered. "In that case, she can use that for cover to get within about a hundred feet of the perimeter and then break for it to get to the station." He looked up and around a bit. "So…is that it, do you think? What the whole plan boils down to?"

"Thinking not like Dizzy but like Testament," Ky answered, giving something of a sideways look to Sol as he did so. "Yes. They never had the advantage of numbers at any point in history. It's in their nature to strike things that will take out the most amount of people at a time."

"This is an awful lot of 'supposing'…" Johnny cautioned.

"There's no other way for her to get out of Germany." Sol answered. "It's this or nothing."

Chipp sighed as he looked over the map. "So all we have to do is somehow either get in that theater ahead of time or ahead of all of these blockades, and then try to talk her into coming along quietly with us without getting her freaked out like last time, or we all die. Then we have to worry about sneaking her out past the rampaging crowd, the soldiers, the snipers, the cameras, and everything else without anyone noticing, get her on this ship without anyone noticing, take off without anyone noticing, and then fly her somewhere safe…all while hoping she doesn't start panicking for the other Gear and no one does anything to piss her off."

"Worse than that I'm afraid." Sol answered. "We have to stop Testament as well."

The ninja groaned. "Let the bastard rot for all I care. He can get himself wasted. Especially after trying to turn me into a sacrificial lamb in the literal sense of the word."

Ky sighed. "It's not the simple. Aside from looking the other way while a murder takes place, people doesn't care which Gear does what. A Gear is a Gear. The full blame for anything he does to the German prime minister will fall on Dizzy. They won't hunt her as bad as if she breaches that reactor, but they _will_ hunt her more avidly than before."

"So not only do we have to stop Testament from carrying out his plan as well, we also have to convincingly fake the death of Dizzy herself. The only way the world will stop hunting her is if they think she's already dead." Sol concluded. "As for Testament…we can either take him down or reason with him."

"Good luck with that." May griped. "That guy closed out the clearance sale on crazy and he's not likely to run out soon. I don't envy which one of you is going to have to deal with him…"

"Actually, I was thinking you, your captain, and my own comrade could do that."

May, who had been leaning over to casually lean on an elbow, suddenly smacked down onto the table before going upright and rigid. "Wh…what?! Are you nuts?!"

Chipp himself turned to him in some incredulousness. Johnny grinned, but it was somewhat sheepish. "That's a mighty tall order… I don't want to sound like too much the coward, but I was hoping one of you could handle him."

"He's strong, yes, but he's also still weakened from past injuries." Sol answered. "There's no choice in the matter. Ky and I have to be the ones to confront Dizzy. We're the only ones who have a chance at killing her."

"Hey!" May suddenly spoke up, looking to them both. "What's this sudden 'killing'? I thought you said you were going to spare her!"

"And I intend to." Ky answered, rather firmly considering what he was saying. "By whatever means necessary."

"But the fact remains that it may already be too late for her." Sol added. "I would like to think everything that happened in Adalwolf, however horrendous, was the act of a panicking child or a frightened animal just trying to defend itself and not knowing its own strength. But there remains a possibility that it was not. That part of it was direct anger. And even if it wasn't, we all know she's not exactly 'right in the head'. Whatever impacted her has mixed with her own unfathomable magic to put separate personas into those wing extensions from her body. We all saw it. I heard her refer to them as conscious entities. If she can't control them then it doesn't really matter if she's innocent or not: she must die."

Ky suddenly snapped his head around to Sol. So did Chipp, looking a bit stunned at that response. May was shocked.

"Sol, you didn't tell me-" The Sacred Order Knight began.

"No way!" May suddenly outburst, her fury returning. "You'd kill her because of her damn _wings_?"

"She'll be a threat to everyone, everywhere." Sol simply answered. "Her power is the deadliest ever. Your crew wouldn't be safe if she couldn't even control it. No one is safe. It would be better for her to die in that situation. Die rather than spend the rest of her life living in total isolation, unable to come near anyone, including a friend or loved one."

Now even Johnny was looking up. Ky grimaced himself on hearing that, his own protest choked off. He didn't know what to say. This was the first Sol had brought this up, but it was a valid point. But…honestly, he wasn't sure if he could do it in that case. If he was less reserved, he might have been shouting like May was. It was one thing to kill someone who had been warped into a soulless monster. But an innocent girl who simply wasn't "right in the head"; whose life was tied to something destructive that she couldn't control… To be forced to destroy her to keep her from accidentally hurting any others, even if she never intended to…

 _Is this what he was truly asking me about back in the cellblock?_

May herself paused a long time, but then finally pouted.

"Quit being such a downer! None of that will happen!"

Sol crossed his arms and continued to look at her casually.

"You're an interesting one. You seem like you truly care for this Gear. I wonder if your crew is willing to assume as much risk as you are. Or even your captain for that matter. Would you be willing to put all of their lives on the line on a daily basis just for this one Gear? Just for one creature who isn't even human and you barely even know?"

The pirate hesitated. Some of her anger faded. That question had clearly caught her off guard. She held back. She opened her mouth and closed it a few times, swallowing.

"I…I…uh…"

"Here's something easier…what is she to you? Ignore the rest of your crew. Just a biological weapon. Hardly a living creature. And aside from that just a child. Thousands of children die every day. What's one more? What does she mean to anyone? What does she mean to you?"

The girl held. Her mind seemed to be stewing over this. But as soon as Sol got to his last comment, she suddenly tightened up. Her hands went into fists and her expression filled with determination as well as anger. Looking up, she stared right into his bold and powerful eyes without hesitation.

"Shut up!"

The room went still again. Everyone looked to May, including Ky. To be honest, he was impressed. Sol had the kind of stare that you could never look directly at without wavering. The power in his eyes was too strong. The sense of what was behind it too powerful. Anyone could see that. Yet she was looking right at him now.

"I said stop being such a downer! You probably just want her for the money to begin with, you stupid bounty hunter! Who are you to go around saying she's nothing? You're just like the rest of the people out there! You see a young little girl and you think she's nothing! You think people mean nothing! Who wants to be like you? Or who wants to be like the rest of the world?"

Her hand went out and waved over Johnny and the others.

" _This_ is all the matters! Everyone in the world thought _I_ was nothing! That I didn't matter to anyone! Well…I matter to these people! I matter to my crew! My _family_! And you know what? She matters to _me_! I don't give a damn what you think or any Sacred Order member thinks or the crew thinks or…or…" She swallowed, choking a bit, and finally spat it out rather meekly. "…Johnny…thinks! She matters to me as much as everyone here! April, Johnny, Janis, and everyone else! And I never, I mean _never_ , leave someone who matters to me behind! So will I put everything on the line to save her? You bet I will! And if you try to hurt a hair on her head…" She paused again, swallowing, tightening up and again steeling herself. But finally she managed to lean forward and spit it out.

"I'll kill you myself!"

The room was deathly silent. The crew was in awe of their first mate. Even the devil-may-care Johnny looked stunned. Sol was completely unmiffed. He stared back totally unimpressed with the threat, but May didn't back down either.

After a time, he closed his eyes.

Unbelievably, he cracked a smile.

"…I wish I had a recorder. I would have loved to have taped that and shown it to Testament. Perhaps he'd actually believe that there are humans out there willing to live alongside his kind…"

Johnny rubbed his own chin at last, but then snickered.

"You heard my first mate. May says she's one of us…that means _I_ say she's one of us, and that means we're all in." He looked to his sides. "Isn't that right, ladies?"

There was a momentary pause among the others. However, April soon toughened up as well and nodded. The cat meowed what seemed to be a voice of encouragement. The others quickly fell in.

Chipp exhaled. "Same for me too…even if this is going to be much worse than London. What time is it now?"

One of the pirates dressed in pink looked at a wristwatch. "About 0100."

"And when does the show open?"

"1800 hours."

Johnny let out a snicker. "Hope you all aren't afraid of an all-nighter. None of us are getting any sleep until we can figure out a way that sixteen people and a battered warship can somehow outwit or defeat half of the German military and two highly powerful Gears and sneak one of them out while we're at it."

Ky merely straightened up in his seat. He cracked his neck a bit. To be honest, in spite of the level of risk, in spite of what Sol had said, and in spite of everything that had gone wrong until now, he felt more "excited" than he had in a while. This almost felt like back in the Crusades, when he lived from day to day by the skin of his teeth and did operations like this all the time. And with that in mind, he strangely felt a bit hopeful. As if a touch of divine providence was indeed on their side.

"Then we haven't a moment to lose. Let's start by assessing our liabilities."

* * *

The door to the room gave a click and swung open. Dizzy, at once, snapped her head up in fearful alarm. Beneath her new light dress, Undine and Necro bulged, nearly coming out of it again on sensing her distress. Yet as it swung open, all that was there was Testament holding what looked like one of those store shopping bags.

"Sorry I didn't just teleport." He apologized. "I need to save what energy I have."

Dizzy stared momentarily back, calming again. Her wings once again slipped back under her dress. Her face fell slightly afterward. Unlike other times, she didn't nod or say anything else. She simply turned away and looked back out the window of the dingy, yet cheap and unknown, room Testament had managed to get them.

The older Gear shut the door behind him and advanced. He set the bag on the single table in the room.

"I'm not an expert on female clothing, especially not ones that need room to conceal your wings, but I think that will do for tomorrow night…or tonight now, I suppose."

Dizzy didn't answer. She kept staring out the window. While this wasn't the best part of town, she could still see the skyline, and even this late at night she could see the falling snow glittering around it as it came down. The expression she bore on her face she had held many times before. It had often been when she was in her prison back in the Schwarzwald, looking to the sky every night. Odd that she still felt like she was there. Strange how even after finding someone like her, she still felt practically as alone and unloved as before.

Testament stared at her momentarily, his own face expressionless as always. "Come here. I want to try it out on you. If we need to get something different, we have to do it soon."

"Testament…"

The voice was small, fragile, and tentative; like a child about to get a shot for the first time she could remember. It made the older Gear pause as the younger looked to him. Her eyes were blood-red now, but still somehow looked more child-like and innocent than the most doe-eyed rabbit.

"Will this…hurt people?"

The man's eyes narrowed.

"'People' is a meaningless term." He answered, somewhat coldly. "It's an elite status. It's a social club. Tens of thousands of years ago you were only a person if you worshipped a certain god. Thousands of years ago you were only a person if you belonged to a certain nation. Hundreds of years ago you were only a person if you had a certain head shape or background. Don't bother using that term. It's archaic."

The Gear swallowed.

"Will this hurt…humans?"

"When is the last time any one of them stopped in the middle of your beatings, starvings, shoutings, and torment to ask if any of their behavior would have hurt _you_? When do they wonder if any of the Gears standing in a catatonic state will feel it when they walk up behind them, too cowardly to even look them in the dead eyes, and cut off their heads? When do they pause to consider the fact we had feelings and thoughts of our own when they grew us like potted plants to fight their wars for them?"

This only made her tremble, turning her head away, bowing it, and curling up slightly.

Testament sighed. "There you go again…"

"I don't like hurting people…humans." She said quietly, correcting herself at the last minute. "I don't want to hurt anyone…"

"That feeling is irrelevant." Testament answered as he set the bag back down again. "It may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, or it may not be months or possibly years from now, but eventually you will have to hurt…and have to kill…simply to defend yourself. That is the price you pay for being born a Gear in this world."

Dizzy gave a child-like whine and cringed a bit more. Her eyes started to shimmer.

Abruptly, Testament smacked a fist against the table, causing her to look up in alarm. His own blood-red eyes were blazing at her.

"Stop crying! Your tears make you weak! Your tears make you hesitate! Your tears seal your doom! And I can't stand seeing one of my kind shedding tears over those damn, genocidal _monkeys! Grow up!_ "

Dizzy stared back, paralyzed in fear now, like any child would be to have a parent yelling at them. Tears flowed freely out of her eyes now. Her face tightened, desperately trying to keep them back if only to stop from being yelled at again, but in the end she had to cup her face in her hands and struggle to force them back with little success.

Testament continued to glare at her a moment, but then softened. His own face eased and his hand relaxed. His own head bowed soon after.

"…Forgive me."

Dizzy didn't answer. She tucked her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and continued to sob.

The older Gear exhaled. "I keep forgetting you're just a child even if you look like a woman. I'm just…scared by what you say some times. I'm afraid of what they'll do to you. You're a babe in a room full of deadly vipers. You may have panicked back in Adalwolf and acted out of instinct, but they don't see it that way. They don't accept apologies and they don't listen to appeals for mercy from us."

The young woman didn't answer, although her crying lessened a bit.

Testament walked forward a few steps.

"If I had my will, you would never face any threat. You could live freely without ever having to use your power to kill again. But that's not what the world is like. They will only ever look on you to kill you. You have no choice."

Dizzy's crying lessened a bit more. Quivering, she looked up from her knees.

"What…" She spoke quietly.

Testament looked up to her a bit more.

"What…what about…peop-…humans like…like…M-"

"There are no humans like May, if that's what you were about to say." Testament retorted, his tone turning a bit sharp again but not as much as before. "Including her. They're all the same."

"Those…humans…looked like they wanted to-"

"And then they saw what you _really_ were. And if they had any sympathy to you at that point, it was gone. They're the same as the rest of their species. They gave you deference because you looked like one of them. Because you appeared as a simple human maiden. But once they knew your true nature, they didn't care anymore. Now they'll react to you the same way they do to all of us. Fearful…distrustful…hating everything they don't understand and that they can't control. Next time they see you they will want you dead. But even if they didn't, what then? Do you honestly think we can coexist among them? That someone of your power can live alongside them?"

Dizzy's eyes shimmered again. As two more tears rolled down her cheeks, she lowered her head again.

"Do you?"

She sniffled and trembled, but spoke in a very meek voice.

"…No."

Testament reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way, but this is all we can do to survive. All we have ever been able to do. After tomorrow, we can go wherever we want and they won't hunt us. We'll have peace."

Dizzy slowly looked up, her eyes red, and looked to him.

"But…we'll be alone…"

"As always, we have no choice. That is the way of our lot. We must forfeit everything simply for the right to exist. I cannot defend you against all of them. Even healed mostly from my old injuries I've used up most of my power. _I_ will die without you doing your part. Can you do what needs to be done to ensure the survival of both of us?"

Dizzy looked back out the window to the skyline. She stared at the slowly falling snow over the glowing city and was silent. Exhaling, she turned back and bowed her head against her knees.

"Alright…"

* * *

"You know, this is a high security area. The president is going to be watching tomorrow night, and even if you're on stage that's still a cause for a concern."

"Sorry. It was late notice myself." The Asian man answered as he pushed up his glasses. "A flu breakout left them scrambling for replacement dancers and I've spent most of the time trying to learn the moves."

The attendant paused a bit longer, but then sighed, turned around, and began to undo the lock. "I suppose it won't matter if you just get into the show." After a moment, he had it open and stepped to one side. "Go straight to the director. I'm telling him you're heading up."

"Thanks a lot." He answered as he stepped forward.

"And put those fans up. They look they're made of gold. As wild as Berlin is getting, someone might try to take them from you."

"I'll…keep that in mind."

The man was soon inside, the door was shut and locked again, and the theater attendant resumed his position. He really hated having to do this guard duty stuff. He was fighting the urge not to flee the city while he could. Anyone with half a brain would do it, especially if they were forced to act as temporary security. But over the next twenty minutes, he reminded himself that he was getting double pay for this and that was a fair trade he was willing to swap in. Why would that Gear want to knock over a theater in the first place, after all?

It was around that time he at last saw another individual approach and come to a stop in front of him.

He dimly regarded the kimono and straw hat. _What is it with the dress this year? Have we turned 'The Nutcracker' into a Japanese setting?_

"May I help you?"

"Just trying to find my way to the ticket booth."

"Don't bother. It's sold out."

"…I think I can find my way to getting a 'VIP' pass."

* * *

At last, after a good three hours of brainstorming, one by one everyone exhaled and leaned back. They all looked a little wide-eyed. Not one among them believed with complete certainty that this plan was possible. Johnny himself gave an exhale with the sound of a whistle and looked up.

"Alright then. Looks like we got ourselves a plan."

"It all depends on if everyone can pull off their part…and pull it off with perfect timing." Sol answered. "The landing has to be one minute long and no longer."

Febe let out a rather uneasy sound at that as she looked back over her own records. "We've…never done an extraction that fast before…"

"The man's right." Johnny answered. "It's got to be one minute and no longer. That's how long it'll take the short-range SAMs they got guarding this city to reposition and knock us out. Which means don't spare the horses getting it into docking space."

"It also means the rest of us have to be well on our way…"Augus grimly added.

Sol turned his head to Ky next. "And you're sure you can pull off your end?"

Ky frowned a bit in response. He still hated doing this. As bad as everything he had done so far, this was going even further outside the law. Regretfully, he gave a nod. "The Holy of Holies should still be in place, which means it's simply a matter of my interfacing at a public terminal. If there's any security in the electronic sense, I'm the kind of mage that can get around it."

"How can you be sure it's still in place?"

The IPF officer exhaled. "The PWAB defeated three measures to have them removed."

Sol was silent at that, but everyone else in the room eyed Ky momentarily.

"And let us be clear, Sol. This is a truce…nothing more. Once the Gear is evacuated safely, then we're back to the way we were before."

"Fair enough." Sol answered, then turned to May. "And how about you? Can you really pull off that stunt?"

The first mate actually paused a moment, but then steeled herself and nodded. "For a friend? You bet. Ten seconds flat."

This, however, prompted April to gulp a bit and lean in, whispering but being more than loud enough to hear. "Um, May…we've only done a test run on this and it took 18 seconds…and it still messed up on a building twice that large…"

"Come on! Where's your sense of daring?" May retorted.

April merely rolled her eyes and hopelessly leaned back into her seat, realizing she wouldn't win this argument.

"Then there's you." Sol said as he turned his head to Chipp next. "Think you can handle your part?"

Chipp grimaced slightly. "I'm pretty good at staying hidden, but I've never had this many intentionally keeping an eye out for me. Carrying a sack full of plastique on my back doesn't help. But…yeah, sure. You can count on me. This whole plan sounds crazy, though."

"I have to agree." Ky spoke up again. "It's one thing to plan everything down to the minute, but all of the time synchronization in the world is pointless when the very trigger event is controlled purely by fate. We're assuming a lot, but even in my best days in the Sacred Order I'd say we're assuming too much with Testament. We can't even guarantee where he'll be. How can we guarantee that he'll make the strike right at that very moment?"

"He will." Sol answered calmly. "I'll force his hand."

"How?"

"I'm the only one among us who can. He's weakened, but he's still a match for all of you. It's debatable if anyone other than you, Ky, can even defeat him even as he is now, but in any event it would take a lengthy battle. I'm the only one who can disable him quickly. Being disabled quickly would ruin Dizzy's end of things. He'll have no choice but to move and strike."

Johnny smirked. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, by the way."

"I'm telling you the truth, not optimism."

"I don't trust to optimism or facts." The pirate answered, beginning to rise. "I simply hear I've got a job where failure isn't an option, and I do it. Same as the rest of my crew. Ladies…" He looked around everyone. "Failure isn't an option. We don't pull this off; we all get nuked."

At once, the rest of the Jellyfish Air Pirates sat or stood at attention, indicating their readiness.

He grinned. "That's what I like to see. We're ready."

Ky looked again to the time. "We have a few hours to rest before some of us should start getting in position. It's going to take a while for us to get in the right spot and hide until it's time to move."

"Well then, let's break out the hammocks and have a slumber party." Johnny answered. "I'm going to be crashing myself. Enjoy sweet dreams, everyone. Likely they'll be the last any of us ever get…"

* * *

"…Well?"

"The word is official. They're tired of development."

"But-"

"No buts. They want the Mark I deployed to the site. They have no choice. Not after what that Gear did to those battleships. It might be the only shot we have of stopping it."

"It's not going to be enough. It's not ready. We need more data-"

"We were supposed to have enough months ago."

"We thought Captain Kiske would have given us a full demonstration of his power! Without it, we can't calibrate the machine!"

"Then deploy it anyway and have it engage Captain Kiske."

"…What?"

"The IPF is keeping it quiet, but they believed he assisted in Sol Badguy's escape. They don't want word of their best officer going rogue. He's still quite the PR monkey for them, after all. You'd be doing them a favor taking him out."

"The machine _can't_ take him out. I told you; it doesn't have his full data. And if he sees it then the entire plan is-"

"Then upload the data from the other combatants. Including Sol."

"…"

"Even the captain can't defeat opponents with all of those abilities combined, can he? At the bare minimum it will push him to his limit. So long as the Mark I has no way to trace it, it doesn't matter, does it?"

"…I need to reconfigure its memory banks now if it's going to be ready to deploy by this evening."

"Do it."

* * *

The ticket vendor gave a snort as he reached out through the window opening, slapped his hand on the bills presented, and pulled them in. After quickly counting up the money, he began to go for the change.

"You're one lucky woman, you know that?" He upbraided the patron. "This event is the biggest in Berlin this time of year. And even with the Gear tickets sold out four months ago. The only reason there's any left is because you're disabled. You're lucky…well…" He gave a half-chuckle. "As lucky as a one-eyed, one-armed foreigner can be." He shoved the change and the ticket out back through the slot. "Enjoy the play."

The pink-haired woman didn't respond or give him a second look. She simply reached in, pulled out the ticket, and left the change to lie there as she turned and walked away.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	21. Last Gig

**"** **Last Gig"**

* * *

Tonight was the night.

Millia was more than ready to get out of that room, one way or another. Her legs had their feeling back but were still sluggish, feeling like she was swimming in gelatin, but she couldn't stay here any longer. She had already taken a few tries walking around the room when she was sure that doctor wasn't nearby, and had herself dressed and seated on the mattress. All she needed now was Jam to come back and they'd be gone.

If one was to ask her how she knew that, she wouldn't be able to rightly say. It was a skill one developed as someone who lived in the underworld. Especially in the Assassin's Syndicate. You learned to sense danger. And truth be told, she had a bit more to go on this time. Tonight was that big ballet production in Berlin. A huge event, and it had led to the city being swarming with people. After what happened in Adalwolf, that meant security was up all over. Every police officer had to be on duty as well as the military, to say nothing of international forces. Millia hadn't been able to sleep last night in spite of being underground for the sound of constant incoming traffic moving about. Assuming one of them didn't knock the door down to try and get to her, she still didn't want to be here any longer. This whole city had a sense of doom about it.

The sound of the door opening rang out. Millia snapped to it. Her sense of something about to happen was so strong she nearly went into her normal assassin mindset on looking to it, in spite of the fact she had been here a few days without trouble. However, it was just who it almost always was.

The former assassin got a bit of a surprise this time, however. She was used to seeing Jam walk in with a bag of groceries or however much money she had been able to get from reselling painkillers. This time, however, she only slowly walked in, carefully bracing a tray in her hands as she walked inside. It didn't contain Millia's food as it had on other occasions, but rather a teapot, a pair of mugs, and some dishes and spoons. A pair of tea bags were stuck in the pot and it was steaming considerably.

"What's that?"

"Looks like we're in luck." Jam said with a smile. "That doc set up some tea for us today. Guess we get a nice treat for a change. It looks like some of the real stuff from China…not that pre-bottled or weak stuff we've been drinking."

Millia merely frowned as she shut the door behind her and moved in. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't want to run up the bill any more than it needs to be."

"Hey," She shrugged. "We keep taking his stuff like this, we'll look like we're good for the bill, right?"

The Russian frowned but didn't change. "I also don't want to do anything to attract attention to the fact we're reselling his painkillers. The less contact we have with him, the better. How did you do?"

Jam set down the tray on the table nearby. Millia had to admit it did smell rather good. She could catch a powerful whiff of it even from here. It was quite aromatic…

"Pretty good. I don't know how long it's going to take to get enough, but I think we're ending up 'in the black' at least. I made about 200 today. Combining that with what I've already made, and that's nearly a thousand." She leaned over, pulled off the pot lid, and took a deep smell. "Mmm…that's good."

Millia, on her part, waved the steam from the pot out of her face. It seemed to be steaming more since she brought it in. "Alright. In that case, we're getting out of here. What time is it and how does it look outside?"

The chef looked up from the teapot with a puzzled expression. "Getting out of here? That's only about a thousand. We don't have nearly enough to pay the bill yet-"

"What the doctor has already is what he'll get. I'm more than well enough to deal with him now if he disputes it. Even if I wasn't, you're in good enough shape to do so."

Jam was surprised. "We're going to stiff him?"

"Unless you'd like to spend even more time with me risking arrest or, worse, being killed by assassins or blown up by the Gear, then yes, we are."

The young woman still frowned as she waved at a bit of the steam herself. "People used to bail on checks when I worked for restaurants. I always hated that… I'd have to cover the difference…"

The blond rolled her eyes. "Well, it's even more of a detriment in the underworld, but we don't have a choice. We're risking death the longer we stay here. I've got a bad feeling about this place. I would have left a lot sooner if I could have…" She grimaced and waved her hand in front of her face. "That tea has a pleasing aroma, but it's quite pungent."

Jam, still looking distracted, kept her eyes to the ground as she absently waved at her face again. "Yeah…I thought about that. I'm not familiar with many Chinese teas that strong…"

Millia didn't answer that right away. She looked again to the teapot. The truth of the matter was she was Russian and spent more time drinking stout grain liquors than fragile tea leaves. But she had been around the world a few times and had sampled her share. This was unlike any she had ever smelled before. The scent was borderline acrid, like a chemical. And she noticed it seemed to be spewing more and more vapor into the air all the time rather than cooling…

As Jam went over to start pouring it, she also noticed she wasn't quite her normal bright and chipper self. She was moving a bit more slowly.

At once, the Russian's own face went stern. "Why would he suddenly give us tea when he's been complaining about his money for what food and water we've been getting?"

"Beats me…" Jam shrugged limply as she poured one mug, giving a yawn. "Ugh, I'm dead tired all of the sudden…"

This sparked Millia's attention even more so. Had that doctor noticed they were selling painkillers? He warned Jam sternly not to advertise it, but she knew the girl wasn't quite as street smart as she would have liked.

"Were you this tired earlier?"

"Huh…?" Jam answered vacantly, turning her eyes up to Millia. She was looking a little glazed over.

"Focus! Were you this tired earlier?" She shouted back.

"Wha…? Oh…oh no…" The chef yawned. "Just…suddenly started feeling real drained… You like honey or…or sugar…?"

Millia's only answer was to snap out her hair like a thick whip and knock the entire tea set over, spilling it and shattering it against the ground with a loud crash. Much to her displeasure, Jam, who was normally as sharp as a tack when it came to sudden moves, merely dully spilled backward and landed on her rear on the floor, looking so muddled that she hardly realized it had happened. Her senses had definitely been dulled. In fact, Millia could feel her own head a bit lighter now.

 _No telling how much I've already breathed in…_ She scowled mentally as a lock of her hair swept over her nose and mouth, forming a crude vapor mask.

"Why d'you do that…?" Jam listlessly asked.

"Either you got sloppy or I did." Millia answered as she grit her teeth and put her hands on the mattress. Much to her displeasure, she still couldn't rise without the aid of her arms. She could only hope more walking would be the cure by improving circulation. "Get up. We need to get out of here right now."

Jam blinked, very slowly, looking like a sleepy child who had just rolled out of bed. "I don't-"

"I was afraid he'd eventually drug us with the painkillers and antibiotics." She said as she managed to get to her feet. Immediately she let her hair dangle longer. She'd be relying on that now. "He must have figured out we weren't taking them. Maybe he tried to drug us once already and on seeing us alert he realized we must not have taken them… So he gave you tainted tea. Let the vapors do the work even if we didn't drink it. We have to go now. Someone must already be on their way to finish us. How bad is it outside?"

"…Wha…?"

Millia groaned. "You said it looked like snow. Is it snowing? Is it dark out yet?"

Jam let out a bit of a murmur as her eyes closed and her head lolled to one side. She remained sitting up, but already she looked half-passed out or drunk. Being a chef, she had likely smelled that tea frequently for its unique aroma. If she had actually sipped any of it she'd be comatose right now. Millia barely got more than a few whiffs herself and she realized she felt a little dizzy. The vapors in the room were still only slowly fading.

The assassin scowled inwardly. Getting out of here on her own would be hard enough. She didn't think there was an ambush outside…or, at least, she hoped there wasn't. She was strong enough to take the doctor alone. But now she realized Jam was nearly out of it. Even if she got outside and took in some fresh air, it was unlikely it would clear up enough for her to start moving again in a reasonable amount of time. Until then she'd be dead weight. And Millia had a hard enough time keeping herself on her own two feet.

For a moment, the impulse hit her to simply leave her behind. After all, they were after her, not the chef. And even if they were, what of it? It was the rule of assassins. If you fell behind you got left behind rather than endanger anyone else. Besides, she had only known this woman for a few weeks and had been forced together entirely by circumstance. She could get them both killed now.

Yet that thought evaporated quickly, surprising even Millia. This woman had risked her life a few times now to help her. She had stayed with her in Berlin helping her get money and food as well as in Adalwolf. And she had foregone her own happiness and best interests for it. There was a time Millia would say that simply made her a fool and left it at that. But right now, thinking back to what that one bounty hunter said about her, it didn't feel right…

 _Maybe this girl will be the death of me after all…_ Millia sighed as she forced herself to half-walk, half-stumble over to the woman. She had to lock her legs once there, and then she lashed out with two strands of hair: one to the wall to brace herself and the other to reach down around her waist. She tugged with both, pulling Jam slowly up.

The young woman mumbled listlessly and opened her yes. "What're…?"

"Cover your mouth. Don't breathe in any more vapors. Focus. Get to your feet."

"Wha…?"

"Get to your feet! Now!"

The Russian accented this by lashing out with her gloved hand. In spite of the glove, she poked out with her nail and gave Jam such a sharp slap across the face it dug in enough to scratch. The chef yelped a bit and opened her eyes. Good. Pain could keep her awake.

"Wha'dyou…"

"Get up and grab on to me!"

The young woman gave a moan as her eyes drooped again, but she managed to push herself up to her feet with Millia's help. She nearly went down again but the Russian quickly put her good arm around her. By now, her other arm was nearly flawless again, but she still didn't want to tax it so soon. Unfortunately, Jam was nearly dead weight, slumping on her and nearly falling off. The former assassin began to hope that whatever was in that tea had merely been a drug and not poison or she could be in trouble soon herself, but keeping the arm tight around her waist, she began to shuffle to the door.

Luckily, Jam was keeping her legs somewhat straight, allowing her to function as a crutch of sorts as Millia adjusted to carrying her own weight plus hers. Still, she was stiff on going to the door. She didn't open it normally. Rather, retracting her hair and condensing it into a club, she swung out and smashed into it.

The door was weak enough and splintered inward, throwing both pieces into the room beyond. However, there was no shouting, no alarm, and no sound of footsteps. All was silent on the other side. Keeping her hair dangling in front of her face and dragging Jam with her, Millia went up to the doorway and looked outside only to see the area was vacant. She recalled she hadn't actually asked Jam if the doctor was still in, and naturally she wouldn't be telling at this point, but it seemed he had flown the coop as soon as the tea was given. That only meant two things to Millia: either he feared they'd not fall for the ruse and he ran while he could, or he was fetching someone else to take care of them so he could collect a fee; either bounty hunters, police, or even the Assassin's Syndicate. The latter seemed far more likely. At any rate, she'd take what she could get.

"Where'r…we…goin'…"

"Move your feet." Millia retorted as he began to drag her on. "Start walking. We're likely in trouble and you need to be alert."

Jam mumbled something in reply as Millia went out into the office area beyond. She quickly glanced around for signs of anyone hiding or any indication of a phone or communication device. With any luck, the doctor had to leave in order to make an outgoing call. It was a good thing Jam hadn't turned in the money. They had just enough for a ticket out of Germany to one of the surrounding countries. And once there, hopefully they'd shake the trail off of their pursuers. Of course, that meant they'd have to get out of here clean and they'd have to hope nothing like inclimate weather or that Gear was around…

After a few moments they reached the door out, which Millia likewise slammed open with a single solid blow from her hair. Immediately afterward, she swung it out into the short hall beyond before the staircase with the same extension, hoping to catch anyone on the other side off guard. However, it hit nothing. She paused a moment, trying to remember assassin procedure. She wasn't sure how many there would be out there, if they were even there yet, or what would be the move they would make when the target was essentially holed in a bunker. And unfortunately, even in cleaner, fresher air, the vapors were still making her groggy. Gritting her teeth and shaking her head again, she began to pull on Jam again.

This was the harder part. The chef was barely putting her feet underneath her. With Millia's own legs weakened, walking her upstairs was a slow, hard business. It was dark up the stairwell, which only made sense as the place was supposed to be abandoned. She tried to remember when she had gotten here if the lights were on or not, however. She didn't know if they would have been killed on purpose. The darkness helped them but only assuming someone wasn't waiting for them. Her own eyes needed time to adjust before she could see clearly, but she didn't have the time to wait. If they had been drugged…or poisoned…someone was coming soon.

It took far longer than she wanted, but finally Millia reached the top door frame. The door was already open, and as best as she could look out she could see nothing. There was no railing on this stairwell, so this finally provided a handhold as she reached out and seized it. One more pull and they'd finally be on level ground again.

Suddenly, she heard a slight noise of wood on wood; right before a cue ball shot out of the darkness and slammed into her hand with such force it instantly broke three fingers.

Millia had been conditioned for years never to cry out in pain, but her face still tightened in agony as she heard and felt her own bones snap. Giving a sharp gasp, she fell backward, losing her grip. Her weakened legs faltered underneath her, and she nearly dropped all the way downstairs, especially with the listless Jam weighing her down. Moments before she could, however, her hair snapped out and spread itself in the hall, anchoring itself and keeping her from going any further. It was a sharp tug on her scalp, but with her teeth grit and her mind filled with fresh agony, she yanked herself back up and quickly slammed her body along with Jam's against the hall wall.

Only then did she seethe as she yanked her now-broken hand back to her chest, malformed and rapidly starting to swell and bruise. In spite of what had just happened, she knew that wasn't a hammer or club. That had been a cue ball.

 _It can only be…_

"Oh, did I crush your hand?"

The voice echoing from the floor overhead resounded through the structure. As a result, Millia couldn't immediately locate it. She frowned at that realization, knowing the only reason he even called out to begin with was because she couldn't place him.

"Well, sorry about that. I meant to smash your skull in on the first hit, but I jumped the gun. Don't worry. The next one will do the job."

"So you finally decided to handle me yourself, Venom?" The Russian called back through clenched teeth, trying not to pant. She was normally a quiet and stoic woman, but when it came to this individual she could be more vocal. Especially now. After all, so long as she kept bantering with him, it would hopefully offset either him or anyone coming after her. She wasn't in the best position at the moment. She knew Venom and his trick cue balls, giving him a ranged weapon deadlier than most bullets or arrows. "You've chased me for so long… Are you certain you don't like women?"

A light snicker echoed back. "I hope you aren't thinking that you're simply going to talk me into making a mistake, Ms. Rage. I've been waiting weeks for this. And to be honest? I prefer it this way. Yeah, not only it coming down to me and you, but even you not totally drugged either. It'd kind of suck if I couldn't listen to you scream…"

The Russian looked to Jam. The woman was so out of it she was only slightly rolling her head up. "Wha…wha…happen…?"

Millia immediately hushed her, but it was too late. Her voice may have been listless, but it still carried.

"Oh, so there's truth to the rumor that you have a comrade." Venom's voice came back. "Sounds like she had to 'try the tea' before you got it. I should have known."

"And I should have known you'd be too much of a coward not to drug me first. Just like your boss…" Millia murmured back.

"You'd best keep your mouth shut if you know what's good for you." The voice responded, far harsher and sharper at that; far angrier. "You're not exactly in the best position at the moment."

"Neither are you. You had an entire group of assassins trying to kill me in Adalwolf. Now from what you said it's just you."

"Doesn't matter. I know even you couldn't work that poison completely out of your system so quick. You were already sluggish and out of practice before now. And now I'm guessing you got at least something from that tea. Plus you've got to protect someone in all of this. I'd say that makes the ball far more in my court than yours."

"If you think so, then by all means. "Come here and let me show you."

It was an empty threat, and she believed Venom knew it. She was too enclosed in here. Her hair always worked better out in the open. The only place for her to go was downstairs, back to the office and the tea vapors. Even if she could block those out, from there Venom could do anything. Flood the basement, fill the ventilation with gas, throw down some sort of Molotov cocktail, or simply keep her pinned while he called for more help.

Besides, even if that wasn't the case, she couldn't spring out at him from here. She had Jam with her and, even if she didn't, she was in considerable agony from what had just happened. It was all she could do to keep the chef from falling back down the stairs.

She wasn't in too good of a spot right now. While there was a chance she could take Venom from here, it wasn't a good chance. He wasn't as good as Zato-1 but in her current shape she'd have to be on even footing with him at least. Especially since he knew all about her hair. She realized her luck in staying alive this long might have run out. She could really use a miracle of a sort right now.

Luckily, it seemed an unconventional one was in store.

While hunched against the wall, struggling to simultaneously bite back her pain, keep balanced, and hold Jam up, who seemed to be nodding off again from not moving, she gradually became conscious of noise overhead. She was simply trying to hear Venom for right now, but instead all she could hear was traffic noises and movement of cars. It made sense. The place might have been abandoned, but it was in town and near roads, after all. But after a moment, it wasn't car sounds that attracted her. It was something more continuous and blaring: a siren.

And it was getting closer.

"You ready to make the next move? Or should I?"

Millia ignored that, only listening to the siren. It continued to get louder and was eventually joined by a second. And then a third. All three were getting nearer.

"The hell…?" Venom's voice rang out, obviously hearing them too.

There was a chance they were just driving by, but Millia began to think that might not be the case. It was true that the doctor who tended her could get a lot of money by giving her up to the Assassin's Syndicate, but it seemed most of any bounty Venom had been offering had been eaten up by now if he could even hire local mercs to back him up. Even if he offered a great deal more money to the doctor, he obviously operated on the black market. He knew he couldn't always trust people like him to deliver.

That meant they had a chance.

"Jam…" She whispered.

"Mmm…"

"Jam, we're in mortal danger right now so you need to try and fight off this drug you're under or we'll both die. Open your eyes and talk to me. We only have a few moments."

As the sirens neared, finally the chef cracked her eyes again. "…Wha…?"

"Jam, is there a car outside? Any car at all?"

The young woman blinked twice, and Millia feared she would go back under for a moment, but in the end she gave a moan and a nod.

"Where?"

The woman moaned again.

"Where?!"

"Tryin'…to think…" She mumbled in response. After a moment, however, she shook her head. "Out…out front…"

"You sure?"

"Yeah…"

The sirens were nearly on them. Millia looked back up the stairs as her hair snaked out and wrapped around Jam's waist again. She only had one shot at this. It was a major gamble even if everything when as she planned, and her body was still in no shape for it. Stretching out another hair tendril to wrap around her broken hand tightly, making her wince as she braced it, but she didn't need it flopping around. She had to pray this would work. They'd probably both be dead if it failed and it would tax her already subpar strength to the limit, but they were far more likely to die staying here. Keeping her eyes skyward, she extended further locks of hair to grasp the side of the doorframe again. She needed all the momentum she could get…

Finally, it happened.

As the sirens grew even sharper, lights suddenly flooded overhead. Between the white lights and the red and blue flashes, she knew the police were pulling up and letting their cars flood the ruin of a building. The squeal of brakes went out as they rapidly halted…

 _Now_.

Immediately, she pushed off the stairs with all of her strength while yanking with her hair. The result tugged her scalp painfully, and between her pain and stiffness she nearly stumbled and ended up banging one of her ankles as she shot up the stairs. But in spite of that, she managed to yank her entire body, dragging Jam with her, up and to the doorframe. Not wasting a second, she whipped around to go to the other side…

A scrape went over one of her shoulders before she heard wood smashing; the end result of a cue ball being knocked out to try and hit her in the head, but missing just barely and imbedding itself in the wooden door frame instead. It had worked. By waiting until the exact moment when Venom had to duck and cover from arriving police, she had used the distraction it afforded to escape. Too slow or too fast and he still might have had an accurate shot, but as it was the ball had missed. She heard a rather loud screaming curse behind her sounding over the brakes, engines, and the sounds of policemen running out. As she herself ran into a full speed sprint, she heard voices cry out in German to halt, but she didn't hesitate. Only pulling Jam tighter she ran further into the ruin of the building.

More shouting followed behind her, echoing through the ruin, and after a moment the sounds of gunfire followed. Quickly, Millia whipped her hair behind her, interwove it, and spread it out. She only hoped she could make it strong enough on the fly to stop bullets if any got close to her and Jam as she struggled to rush through the building. Between the weight and her stiff legs, she could barely manage a slow jog at first. Luckily, the jostiling seemed to alert Jam, along with the sound of gunshots and soon impacts around them, spurring her awake again and getting her legs moving.

"What…? What the…"

"Shut up and move!"

Luckily, that got her legs moving more. The bullets cut off a moment later as Millia and Jam ducked behind the support structures and started to tear for the back wall. There was no opening there already, but one of the locked doors had a rotted frame. The Russian could see light spilling throughout the cracks. As the police no doubt tried to find a way into the building, she barreled right at it. Taking a deep breath and gritting her teeth, she knotted her hair together, swung it around, and lashed out, smashing right through it. A moment later she and Jam stumbled out into the night.

A few flakes were falling. Just flurries for now, but hopefully if they got too much farther it would pick up. The back of the building was an assortment of junk, debris, and collapsed construction material, so it took Millia a moment to get over it, slowing her down as she ran even with Jam waking up more. Yet in the darkness, she saw what Jam had spotted. An older truck, half rusted and paint peeled, parked just a little ahead. She wasn't sure if it was even road-worthy, but she made for it just the same.

As she ran, a police officer came around the side on her right. He shouted out a warning an instantly ran for her, but her hair snapped out and backhanded him across the face so hard he went flying to the ground. A moment later, another appeared on her left side. This one didn't get in range, but instead raised his weapon to fire. Clenching her teeth, feeling fresh sweat break forth, Millia snapped her hair down, seized the first bit of old masonry she could find, and flung it at him. A thud connected a moment later, dropping him just as the two of them cleared the debris. Quickly they ran to the side of the car. Not wasting any time, Millia's hair shot out, flattened itself into a crowbar of sorts, plunged itself into the side, and pried once-popping the door right open. She practically threw the semi-conscious Jam inside before climbing in as well.

As the police continued to cross around to the opposite side, and she heard other engines revving again, obviously more cars trying to head her off, she quickly moved to the ignition with another strand of hair. Luckily there was no chance of these older models being chipped, so she was able to co-opt her hair into being used as a key again, but she feared it wouldn't start. And sure enough, the first two tries it didn't go, although the fact the starter even made a noise was an encouraging sign. Finally, on the third try, just as shots began to go off against the hood, the vehicle's engine roared to life. Millia mashed down on the gas and, flinging both herself and Jam back violently, the tires squealed before taking off, shooting out of the backlot and onto the road. Shots continued to thunder behind them, but gave out a moment later.

In moments, Millia gave them another jolt as she swung the wheel wildly and got them onto the road. Once there, the vehicle immediately went into a skid, not only from the bald tires but the fact the snow was sticking to the roadways. For a moment, they fishtailed wildly before she regained control and continued to gun the engine, ignoring the fact that doing so almost guaranteed a crash if they had to slam on the brakes. She forced herself to use both hands to keep a grasp on the wheel in spite of the pain involved, needing the control. Jam, on her part, grunted and groaned from her pained experience, but it was enough to get her to look up more.

"Where…did we…? Are we…"

"Sit up." Millia coldly ordered as she looked to the rear-view mirror.

It was hard to see between the snow and the darkness, but luckily the police would be spinning their lights, blaring their sirens, and running on full beams so there would be small chance of missing them. While she was sure some were running back to their cars right that instant, for the moment the sounds of the sirens were fading again. Apparently they had arrived so quickly that they had no time to deploy. None of them had even noticed the car in the back or had mistaken it for a wreck. She hoped she could get a good distance on them before any pulled out before her. Perhaps she should find a street to duck down…

Yet as she kept looking, one of the police cars suddenly ran over the curb, pulled out into the road, and, with neither sirens nor claxions, squealed rubber as it ran after her.

Jam moaned a bit as she leaned up in her chair, and then turned her head behind her. She saw the same vehicle. As Millia slammed the accelerator down, she wasn't able to break even with the car's speed behind her until it had already closed a good portion of the distance. Gritting her teeth, she suddenly swung the wheel around violently. Jam was slammed to one side as the car gave a squeal, almost going into a skid again as it rounded the nearest corner and took off down the road.

"Ugh…hey, relax… There's only one of them…" She moaned.

"That's not a police officer. It's him." Millia retorted as she evened the car out again. The flakes were still falling and picking up speed. A few more minutes and she wouldn't be able to make a turn like that again, and she was sure the tires on the cop car were better than hers.

"Huh?"

"The sirens and lights would be on." Millia answered as she winced a bit from her hand pain. "He must have gotten to one of the cars first. Knew I'd run for it…"

Jam shifted as she peeled herself up. "Can't…you…beat him up…?"

"I don't know in this condition… Besides, not without the police realizing who we are…"

"Then what do we do…?"

"Get somewhere more populated and hope we can lose him long enough to the airport…"

The chef looked up. "Pop…populated…? But, how will we get around…?"

"Hopefully he'll have the same problem." The blond answered before going silent, focusing entirely on driving.

* * *

This might have been the biggest artistic event in Berlin following the days of the Crusades, but it went without saying even considering the multitude of attendees that the German government had trouble promoting it this year. There had been numerous cancellations leading up to the performance in the week before after what happened in Adalwolf. The international attendees had dropped to about one tenth of their previous size. The city and the federal government had gotten in a whole series of arguments trying to establish how much would be allowed to patrol the city and under what conditions they could operate. After all, it had been the military that had leveled the cathedral in Adalwolf, not the Gear. One side argued about the need to protect such a large number of people from collateral damage. The other side argued that the damage would be infinitely worse without the military there. But with the German government wanting to pull out even more stops than last time, relegating the IPF into almost a secondary or supporting role, the question started to become even if they could make a difference if there would simply be too much of a military presence for anyone willing to even attend. At last, however, a compromise had been struck with only a day to spare, and Berlin managed to recap its losses somewhat by reselling the returned tickets for a quarter price.

The streets around the Tiergarten Theater were packed as they had been every year, but the surrounding blocks were not. There were far less street vendors and what few had come were regretting it as they were only selling about half of what they were used to. Only a small portion of the crowd was more of the regular audience. The others were either people who had never afforded a ticket before now or were more of the thrill-seeking or "German solidarity" types. After all, it was no secret that people were avoiding the country now, and those who remained were mostly staying indoors, nervous about going in to work even if they had mouths to feed or families to provide for.

The place was certainly festive looking. Done up with lights and colors and decorations that could be seen from far off and all up and down the main block around Tiergarten Theater. Perhaps not as festive or bright as, say, the old New York City Times Square celebrations, but still very lit up and attractive. And still filled with people determined to sound off and have a good time, with the shouts and cheering growing as the evening fell and only growing louder. After all, those who were still attending weren't there just for some ballet production but were there to show off how they weren't afraid of the Gear or what was going on at the time. And truth be told, there was more boldness on their part closer to the theater if for no other reason than they didn't have to look at the periphery. Closer to the theater, there were less crowds of soldiers and guards taking position. The decorations obscured the snipers and lookouts on roofs. The sounds of revelry blocked out the sounds of smaller planes and hoverjets covering the area. The tall buildings obscured the warships that had been deployed to encircle the city at a safe distance. And, last but not least, the crowds helped obscure both the military and the police force present.

The IPF members were probably the most on edge out of all of them. After all, Captain Kiske was no longer in command, and there was even the rumor going around that he had deserted. Many of them had been killed back in Adalwolf and, worse yet, the one outlaw they had managed to capture, Sol Badguy, was on the loose again as well as disabling one of their trains and nearly causing a nuclear meltdown. On the cusp of all of these unfortunate events and missing the man they trusted the most in spite of how bad things had been going so far, they were the most on edge as they patrolled the streets and looked about, keeping an eye out for any more places the Gear would be hiding in plain sight. Yet the few who were feeling braver were still uneasy due to how the government was treating them. After two failures, they were being treated almost as glorified security guards or "rent-a-cops". Not being given any real authority and being instructed both to stay out of sensitive areas as well as to mostly serve to notify the army. The fact that they weren't expected to engage in fighting yet were still being crowded into the hot zone for spare eyes and ears wasn't something that set well with any of them. Especially in a crowded situation like this.

But to be honest, all sides were feeling antsy now. Adalwolf had been overcrowded but it had been a small town, ultimately. If an incident happened here, it would be tens of thousands. Perhaps hundreds of thousands or even millions. And they all knew if they didn't hit the Gear first whenever she showed up, they wouldn't get a second chance.

As curtain time drew near and the sun fully set, with what little light there was left to be gained obscured by the overcast clouds, and as the sky broke and began to shed flakes in full-on flurries that promised to develop into heavier snow before long, the main screens in front of the theater came on. Families and couples gathered before them as best they could: some taking standing positions while others camped on the street and huddled together with whatever hot chocolate or cider they had and settled in. The last few people with tickets were making their way inside, although the lines were still quite thick even now at the door. After all, if one was brave enough to come out there, then they were holding on to someone opting out at the last minute, leaving another opening. Some were gathered around the front of the theater even now, watching the crowds go in, hoping that they would make an announcement to permit another load.

And some were simply watching as they made sure one woman in a simple and large dress with blue hair managed to make her way inside with them…

* * *

May let out another violent shudder as she blew on her hands, before poking her head out of the back seat. "Can't you fly this any lower?" She managed to shout over the blare of the engine.

April could only let out a grimace as she held her head down more. She muttered something back, but it was lost on the wind.

"What was that?"

"I said we're already flying too low! Anyone could spot us if they looked up at the right moment!" She shouted back. "If we're not careful one of those snipers'll spot us! Besides, it'd be just as cold down there! I'm freezing too!"

"That's a load of bull! You at least get a windshield to keep the wind off of you!" May shouted back before she leaned in more, trying to keep her anchor from swinging around too much.

The two shipmates were currently making their circuit over Berlin. It wasn't easy, just as April had been pointing out. Eyes were everywhere, on the sky as well as the ground. They actually had a bit of a lucky break with this snow. It was providing enough cover and insulation to mute out the sound of the prop flier that April was currently manning; enabling them to make their frequent circuit of the city in spite of the heightened security. It still didn't mean that both of them were too eager about this whole thing. Especially not since they were running on a synchronized clock they were hoping would be right…

May frequently looked over the side as they buzzed around. It wasn't the size of the prop flier or their high circuit that made her nervous. It was watching as the presidential motorcade pulled up to one of the more luxurious buildings almost directly across from the Tiergarten Theater. From there, the president would get a perfect view of one of the main screens displaying the program. Normally he would go right inside, but it seemed for all of his talk to try and convince people that the event was safe, he himself was taking a few extra precautions and keeping his distance in a building under his control with his own security. Goodness knew that it might have very well been a stand-in at the upper floors, as there was no escape route for the politician if things went wrong. It wouldn't be the first time May would have found herself in that position. But at any rate, based on the fly-bys and the arrival, he had to be seated now and gearing up for the performance.

Which meant very soon, May would have to make her own move. Taking a look at the clock display at April's HUD, looking just over her shoulder, she realized that Sol's time might be right on the mark. And that meant that she was soon going to confront one of the last men she ever wanted to see again, and this time would have to get the drop on him or everything would fall apart…

 _But it's for Dizzy…so I'll do it._

 _Just a little longer…_

* * *

Chipp was actually a bit more suited to his current element. Even in an area this crowded with people, he felt more at ease in slipping in and out of shadows and making this way over to the parking garage. Of course, he had to be more vigilant this time. There were a lot more eyes looking around and they were trying to catch someone just like him skulking about. Even worse was that in most of his outings as a ninja, he didn't have his current cargo.

There were few people in the world who would enjoy walking down a street with an oversized bag over their shoulders filled with active bombs, but less so who would not only try to sneak around with such an obvious bit of luggage but also have them be rather crude. The Jellyfish Air Pirates couldn't afford conventional explosives. These were mostly put together with chemicals and spare parts. Chipp was no bomb technician but between the exposed wires on some, the duct tape on others, and one bomb in particular that had been hastily put together using what looked like adhesive stickers from a local toy store, and he was more than a little afraid that one wrong step would turn him into a fireball. He was glad when he finally managed to sneak his way off the main drag if for no other reason than he could move more easily and focus more on keeping the bombs even.

By now he had made it to the garage. Naturally, he wasn't out of the woods yet. Not only were there active cameras in here and the place locked up, but there were guards patrolling outside. He had managed to slip in just the same, but he knew he couldn't afford to hang out in the open or jump the gun. He'd have to place the bombs and get out as soon as possible. Odds were someone would spot him doing this, so the only thing he could do now was place them and move before anyone could respond. Luckily, that wouldn't be much of a problem. As he crouched in one shadow and pulled out an explosive, he noticed the crude timer had been set, but to be precise he would have to fine tune it to match the time with the chaos that would unfold.

 _Fifteen minutes…only ten of which will be covered by that hiccup that Ky gives, assuming the cop can pull it off…_

 _Sheesh, when I decided to go after that Gear, I never thought I'd be doing this. Essentially delegated to the 'bomb man' in a ragtag commando unit… But everyone's working together on this. We all have a common cause, and none of it works without us all together doing our part._

 _Great._

 _That means if one of us messes up, we_ all _fail._

* * *

As the door opened, it revealed a lone IPF officer seated at an old computer terminal. It was one of the rarest of the rare: a system that had actually survived all the rampant destruction of the Crusades. Based on the parts of it looked like they had been operated on and repaired with mismatched paneling, and other parts of it were scratched, dented, and even scored in one area, it made it clear it had seen its share of hard times. But now it was installed right here in this secure room, wired up to a one-way line to the main "bus" that operated the bulk of Berlin's networks, but in particular ones that had old IPF ties such as those related to security and transmissions. From the looks of it, it was a rather boring job. The officer was leaned back and nearly napping, using the terminal to fire up the local feed of the upcoming ballet before curtains went up.

That changed, however, when he heard the secure door behind him open. Quickly, he snapped to attention, obviously thinking it was his supporting officer as he wasn't due to be relieved for four hours yet. In a flash he sat upright and swiveled around to the door.

He blinked and quickly stood upright. "Captain! It's you! What…where have you been?"

Ky didn't answer right away. He readily stepped inside, never opening the secure door all the way, and then rapidly shut it behind him, making sure the Thunderseal was cleared right before doing so. "…Special assignment." He answered as soon as he was within, moving his hand to rest on the hilt.

The officer continued to look rather surprised. "I'm…kind of surprised to see you here, sir. I thought you had been removed from this assignment… And…um…well, there was a rumor, but nevermind-"

"Officer," Ky cut off as he kept his hand on his hilt. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I'm afraid I don't have time. This will take too long to explain and, unfortunately, I don't have the luxury of trying to make you understand or risking letting you sound an alarm. So I'm afraid I'll just have to apologize in advance. Forgive me."

The man blinked at that, clearly even more confused than before, but he had no chance to ponder what this meant. At once, Ky lifted his other hand and pointed his first two fingers at him. The Thunderseal shimmered a moment, letting out a bolt of electricity from the hilt, before a much larger bolt erupted from Ky's fingertips and struck the IPF officer right in the chest.

He spasmed and went rigid, but only for a fraction of a second. Soon after he went flaccid again and collapsed to the ground in a rather painful heap.

Ky gave an uneasy shudder before he advanced, bent down next to him, and began to straighten him a bit. He hated having to do that but he had little choice. Besides, this guard was the third in the series he had already disabled. Not to mention he had to overload the secure door's maglock in order to even get to the terminal. They may not have been giving this old battered station much mind, but the powers that be _knew_ it was important, which meant they had sent guards to watch it to make sure it wouldn't be tampered with. That was why it had taken Ky so long to get into position.

Yet he had still been spotted…

Ky was a man of honor. So long as he could serve honorably, losing the position in the IPF wouldn't matter much to him. But the fact that he had to be underhanded about this… The fact he had to betray those who he called allies. Even if it was only knocking them out or stunning them…

Yet there was nothing for it. He had already come this far. Now, he had to see it through to the end. No matter what happened to him or the Gear, he had to keep going.

 _Just make sure it works or this will be all for nothing._

 _I have to help her now._

With the officer taken care of, he got up and quickly went to the seat. While Ky wasn't as computer-inclined at most, he knew how to work this system in an emergency. Quickly he pulled forward, dismissed the other screens, and pulled up the command line interface. He knew the keystrokes would log him but so be it. He would eventually be traced to this by testimony. Therefore it didn't matter.

On accessing the interface, he quickly typed in the command line the executable for a hidden program: _"HolyofHolies . exe"_.

Back during the Crusades, in spite of the bad situation Earth was going through, the importance of having some sort of defense network in place could not be denied. There had to be information routes to report on situations. There had to be communications to coordinate when enemies attacked. In more extreme cases, in which actual war weapons and the like were available, there had to be ways to run them by remote. All of these required computer networks.

But Gears, even operating under Justice, were not foolish. They were intelligent enough to hack networks or seize control of them, especially since these early remade machines were meant to be crude, easy-to-activate, and operable under war situations-not hack-proof. When the Gears started to exploit the networks, either disabling them or, worse yet, using them themselves in order to subvert their human opponents, a security system was needed. Eventually, one was created that was rather simplistic and brute force by modern programming standards, but it too was easy to implement and complex enough to keep the non-computer-using Gears out. The system would basically override entire cities worth of networks, and usually entire regions. In one case, the entire country of Portugal was under one briefly.

Most people weren't aware they even existed. They were a "late game" addition in the war, after all. But Ky was not only an individual who was aware of their existence. He was also a man who had memorized the codes for most of the ones in Europe, including Germany.

Sure enough, on launching the executable, a message box popped up; prompting him to put in the password.

Exhaling slightly, he typed in the long-memorized code. Quite complicated, and definitely not anything a mnemonic or clue could be linked to. After typing, he pressed the enter key. Immediately a second dialog popped up. Very crude and basic as well. Something someone could make with built-in developer software. However, it displayed several options. One of them was to run a System Reset: the most basic way to purge any hacker or controlling code attempting to breach the system. The thing was it required time to propagate the signal throughout the entire city-wide system as well as to clear all the memory cells. For an area the size of Berlin, that was ten minutes easy. Possibly more than that, but he doubted more than twelve.

What that would do was give them a good ten minutes of blindness in which the only way they could be tracked on most security networks, which were themselves running off of the city's network and power grid, would be disabled. It would also keep any system using the city's own relays mute and deaf. They would have that time to do their mission. However, the timetable they had worked out was fifteen minutes. They could afford no longer. That meant for up to five minutes people could still watch them.

They'd have to make sure they were already on their way out or moving too fast to be stopped when that happened.

With that in mind, Ky moved the control over to the execute for the System Reset. However, he didn't type just yet. He looked to the clock first.

Still about 90 seconds.

 _And the second that's hit, I need to run._

* * *

Testament was disgusted to be here. It made him sick to even have to be around a group of humans. To be in the middle of one of their cities, surrounded by them, was enough to practically make him nauseous. It didn't matter that he knew full well that in about one hour's time all of them would be dead. Not only was there an entire planet of them outside of this city, but it didn't do anything for the fact that he was stuck here with them now. What more, he knew _she_ hated it whenever they were going to die. So in addition, to hating them more than anything personally, he also hated the fact they brought her discomfort.

 _They brought this on themselves, though…_

 _They couldn't just let her live in peace._

Testament had a good view of the front of the theater from here. Not of the doorway, of course. That was blocked off by the crowds. They were thinning out from trying to get in at this point, for they were helping the last few to their seats and had already closed the doors. Most of the people in the street were taking position to watch the screen in spite of how cold it was, and how the few flurries that had started off were now picking up into a steady shower. The assortment of bright and vibrant lights had actually dimmed a bit to try and not create a glare off of the falling flakes so the screen would be more visible, although all it was running at the moment was advertisements. Unfortunately, he couldn't see _inside_ the building at all. Dizzy had already gone in, about as nervous and uncertain as any small child would be sent into a crowded building all on her own. It didn't help that Necro knew full well what Testament intended and seemed eager to get started. She had complained about her right shoulder itching and even when both she and Undine told him to stay quiet he wouldn't keep in. The more nervous she was the more likely he would come forth, too… But it was a chance he had to take.

From his current vantage point, Testament looked back to the same side of the street he was on. He was as close as he could be to the building opposite the theater without being harassed for loitering. Even from here, he could see a number of people in German's own variation on a secret service stationed in front of the blocked off building plaza. That was the one hosting the German president. He already knew where he was. Even in his own subpar state, it would be nothing for him to teleport right past them and before him.

Of course, he'd only have one shot at it. At the moment he had fully extended his own attire and supplemented it with a black hood, but every inch of his skin that poked out was unnaturally pale and testified to him not being quite normal. Luckily, no one paid much attention to him as he leaned against a building side. After all, this was Berlin. It had all sorts of characters. His own tail was well obscured and he was human-like enough in appearance that no one could suspect he was a Gear, and his demeanor was dark and cold enough to prevent anyone from staring too long for fear of getting his ire. That would change once he had to reveal himself, but all he had to do was make one move and everything would be set in motion…and he would reap as many humans as possible before the hammer fell and destroyed the rest of them.

In spite of his resolve, Testament couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable about all of this. Not for the deaths of the humans he himself would inflict. Oh no…if he could work his will he would throw every last one of them into an oven and watch them roast. Even the ones he had run into that seemed bearably decent could perish along with them if it meant being rid of them. And not for the fact that both he and Dizzy would be hard pressed to escape this alive themselves. No, it was the fact that he had to have her do this. In spite of how she had been treated, he knew full well that she still didn't want to hurt them. She was still devastated not only at the people she had killed by accident in Adalwolf but by the ones she had no choice but to kill. It was maddening to Testament, but also drove him to further hate.

 _Damn them all to hell… Such worthless creatures…_ He thought as he visibly sneered. _This is all their fault. They don't even know what to do with an innocent creature when they find it. All they do is destroy it. If they had just left her alone, if they had gotten past their own petty "all Gears must die" mentality…she'd never have to go through this. She'll spend the rest of her life having to hide in the shadows having to slaughter whatever human comes upon her to survive and feeling more inner torment and torture for all of it. And all because-_

Testament's train of thought cut off at that point.

By now, the crowds were packed in but were also slowing. The last advertisement had run, and the screen had changed to the introduction to the program. The last few groups that could sit in the street were doing so while others were taking standing positions to watch instead. Everyone was pausing and turning to the screen.

Everyone save one person.

He seemed to almost materialize out of the crowd; the man blocking Testament's line of sight to him merely turning and looking up. But when he did, he popped out behind him. The same red and white clothing. The same brown, spiked hair, and the same headband; his eyes perfectly focused on him. It was as if he had known the whole time where Testament would be.

The Gear's mouth parted as the name went through his head.

 _Sol…_

He had found him. He had no idea how, but he had actually tracked him down. For a second, Testament was aghast. How? How could he have known where he would be? An entire country open to him, an entire city open to him, and he had guessed he would be here?

However, he didn't dwell on the how. All that mattered was that he did. And now that he knew he was here, he had to have known more than that. He had to know _why_ he was here. He had to know _what_ he was doing here and his intentions.

Testament leaned up and thought for a moment. Sol was right in front of him. If he got into a fight with him, the Gear realized he was still weakened enough to have a good chance of losing. And if he lost here before he carried out his part of the plan, then that would be it. After what happened in the Cathedral, he didn't put it past Sol to not have actually worked with that entire group of humans. While they'd be only fodder for Dizzy, they might ruin her end of the plan. They might alert the whole German army on the area. He wouldn't even put it past those creatures to nuke the entire town trying to kill her. And while a massive toxic radiation leak might not be enough to kill her, some of those greater weapons might. Her body was frail…

 _He's here…which means he could ruin everything…_

Testament knew he had to make a decision, and fast. Once Sol started to fight him, there'd be no way to focus on anything else. Even if Dizzy could handle herself, the incident in Adalwolf had inadvertently shown that even she could be hurt with all her power. And even if she wasn't in danger, there was the threat of this part of the plan being ruined. There was only one thing for it.

Gritting his teeth in anger, Testament quickly stood up and flicked his hand out, he performed a twirling gesture with it, and at once the darkness around him seemed to peel off of the shadows of his own arm, lengthen, and become tangible. In moments, a shaft had extended outward and entered his grip, and rapidly it lengthened and twisted and tapered on one end while going down to the ground with the other. In a moment, he smacked the end down on the ground, and the black shadow turned blood red: his scythe.

Even with most people's attention on the screen before them, that couldn't have escaped notice, but he no longer cared. He had already established the connections an hour ago to put him on the appropriate floor with the German president. Therefore, his only concern was watching Sol and making sure he couldn't react in time before he snapped his scythe back, placed the other hand on it, and then swung forward and cut the air. Whoever didn't notice him already quickly turned their heads as the sound of reality tearing ripped through the air, sending a resounding echo down the street. In moments, two dozen people were looking to him as space itself was ripped open, a cosmic tear tinged with red fire, and the Gear rapidly stepped forward into it…

As his view of Sol faded, he failed to see the man never reacted.

He merely looked to his time, and saw, give or take a second or two, his prediction for when to begin with precisely on schedule.

* * *

An alarm clock rang from the panel of the prop flier, echoing loud and clear even over the sound of the bitter blowing wind.

"It's time!" April shouted. Quickly, she pitched the prop to one side and made a beeline straight for a fly-by of the roof of the building across from the Tiergarten Theater. "I just hope that guy's right about that…"

May quickly rose from her own seat, ignoring the violent turn of the plane. After all, she never fastened herself in her seat to begin with. She quickly hoisted the anchor and ran some mental work, thinking about how deep she'd have to go. Two floors down easily…

As the plane made a line over the top of the building, she rose to full height and hefted her weapon over one shoulder. It unbalanced the plane a bit, making it wobble, but this wasn't her first time and so she bore with it.

"Ten seconds, April!"

"Er…are you sure you don't want me to add one or two just because-"

"I got this! Ten seconds!"

May grasped the end of her anchor as tightly as she could and swung it around fiercely in a circle. After one revolution, she could already feel the pull against her body. By the time she did two, she felt herself nearly being yanked out of the cockpit by the momentum. She threw in one more for good measure, slowing down just a bit at the end to lessen the power, and then, just as they passed over the roof, she flung the entire weapon downward.

"Let's see that bounty hunter do thIIIIIIS!"

Her voice choked off into a rather wild cry as the power of the momentum coupled with gravity yanked her right off the top of the prop flier and straight to the ground. While April kept flying, May shifted both of her hands onto the hilt as vertigo and force caused her stomach to fly into her shoes. Yet she bit down from experience and dealt with it as she pulled her entire small body behind the thickest part of the anchor.

Between the projectile motion and the pull of her own force plus the fall, she was soon sailing down like a bomb right for an off center impact on the roof.

To be more precise, a bunker-busting bomb.

* * *

Testament knew full well that his mere appearance would provide all the distraction he needed. These people weren't the higher-level magics, after all. Oh, certainly the president's secret service had some that could use magic among them, but certainly no one who had ever confronted a Gear before. Hence, as he broke forth through his cosmic tear and saw a well-lit chamber done up with a measure of luxury, something befitting a higher member of state when they went to view an event like this ballet, as well as the normal entourage of political heads, presidential family members, and, of course, secret service, he got exactly what he expected. Shocked faces that were still trying to comprehend what they were seeing.

Even not knowing exactly where he would be, Testament saw his portal was spot on. He was a mere ten feet in front of the full-wall plate glass window overlooking the Tiergarten Theater screen, and right before him, seated on a leather couch along with his wife and children, was the German president. Like everyone else in the room, his face was aghast at the sudden arrival.

The Gear wasted little time. He was too weak and Sol might shift to Dizzy while he was here. As the corners of his vision saw two of the more powerful members of the guard starting to cast spells of their own, he swung his scythe at one, crossed, and swung it at the other. The blood-red energy on his blade seemed to melt off in both occasions and fling itself at either man like balls of plasma. Yet before making impact, both of them twisted and morphed into hideous, hellish creatures. On contact, not only did the force throw them to the ground, but both men cried out as the bloody monsters savagely tore into them. Not enough to kill them, but so long as it kept them busy it would suffice.

Now there was no one left to keep him from going forward and finishing his job. He brandished the scythe and stepped off the ground, moving toward the President.

Before he could go more than an inch, however, the ceiling between the two burst, and among a deluge of building debris and a terrific clamor, a metal and orange object descended from overhead and slammed down in the space between. The Gear halted in surprise as the sudden arrival came to a halt just a short distance in front of him.

He looked down to the object and had just enough time for his brain to register what it was as it quickly moved out of its current position, not at all miffed by how it had just literally plowed through not only the ceiling but two floors above, and looked up to him.

It was a girl in an orange pirate outfit boasting a rather large and heavy anchor, which she now grasped more tightly with both hands as her feet swung around and touched down on the floor.

His memory registered her grinning face…

"This is for turning me into a potted plant, asshole."

Before Testament could fully register what she was doing, she snapped the anchor off the ground, swung it around in nearly a complete arc, and brought the full brunt of one of the arms into his jaw.

* * *

May had to admit: it felt _great_ to feel her anchor connecting with that Gear's face. It had been a dream of hers ever since England to be able to give him a good whack with it. And as tough as he was and as easily as he could beat her to a pulp, between his weakened state and the fact she got the drop on him with a blow at full power, even he couldn't just shrug that off. Not only did his head snap up and to the side, but the sheer force of the blow took him clean off his feet and sent him flying.

He wasn't braced, and he certainly wasn't a hulk like the last person who had gotten a full hit of her anchor. Even someone as powerful as he was powerless to stop himself from sailing back so hard he slammed not only into the plate glass window, but smashed right through it; shattering the glass and flying out onto the street on the other side.

As Testament's body began to fall to the ground, May paused to relish the moment. Luckily, she snapped out of it long enough to realize that not only did that blow likely more annoy him than anything, but that she couldn't afford to stick around that long in a room full of secret service agents, government officials, and nothing less than the German president…especially since most of them were still able-bodied when Testament arrived, and now were only hesitating because they hadn't yet recognized who she was. Quickly she hoisted her anchor back up, propped it over one shoulder, and charged right out to the very opening she had just made with Testament's body. In seconds she was there and leapt out after him.

Her eyes looked downward for a moment as the vertigo once again began to hit her, and saw the Gear was already recovering from the last blow and beginning to right himself. Even he couldn't just take a 13 floor drop, after all. Of course, neither could May. He may have had quite the distance on her, but from this high she knew the result would be "splat" for her eventually…

Luckily, however, it never came. After falling only one floor she heard the sound of the prop flier. Four stories later, and it was nearly on her. A scant four stories before falling, and before her momentum could get too high to stop, she saw the flier zoom underneath her before she fell right back in the seat she was in just a little while ago. Considering the narrowness of the opening and how precise it had to be, the fact that she landed clean, not hitting the pilot or knocking her anchor against the sides, was rather amazing. And while she got a bit of a painful jolt from the impact, it was nothing she wasn't used to.

Soon after, the pirate let out a sigh of relief as she slumped back into her seat.

"You alright?" April called behind her as she rapidly pulled back out of the street again.

"No problem." She smiled as she leaned back, even as she wiped a small amount of sweat from her brow. "Phew…but what'd I tell you? Ten seconds easy."

"Um, actually, May… I added two extra seconds. I told you you couldn't do it in ten."

May sat upright at that. "Wha…? But…what if I had been on time?!"

"I knew you wouldn't, though. Even trying really hard." April shrugged.

The first mate frowned, crossed her arms, and pouted as an alarm siren began to blare from the building.

* * *

With the entire city on alert regarding the situation with the Gear, along with the military deployment had gone the deployment of various alarm systems. After all, following what had happened in Adalwolf, as soon as the Gear appeared they wanted to get people away as soon as possible; despite recommendations that large numbers of sirens would only cause a panic that might exacerbate efforts to respond to a crisis situation.

Naturally, with everyone so on edge, it didn't matter that the Gear that arrived was Testament or even that he couldn't automatically be confirmed to be a Gear in the first place. One nervous soldier seeing an attack happening on the President was all it took for him to trip the first alarm, and it took mere seconds for that to propagate into sounding off the general alarm for the area. From there, in only moments the military was setting off the higher alerts, assuming the worst, and beginning to fire up air raid sirens throughout the entire Tiergarten district.

And the result was, unfortunately, just as predicted.

In the theater itself, the sounds of the sirens blared in over the silence of the audience, and the result was instantaneous. A fistful of people calmly began to rise and exit. Others, however, tore out of their seats as fast as they could and broke. That, unfortunately, spurred on others. Immediately they tore out as well, thinking this was a signal that the attacker was nearby. And the sudden rise prompted others to be even more fearful, thinking that the Gear was right there in the theater with them. They too tore to their feet and ran. And with the lights already dimming, it wasn't long before people started to charge into each other. Not long after that, one person got knocked down and stepped on, prompting a scream from a family member. And the first scream soon led to others as full-blown panic broke out.

And through it all, a single blue-haired woman in an attractive yet concealing dress cringed, trying to hide her own red eyes from the audience before the lights came on.

Dizzy felt severely uncomfortable now. It wasn't just because the sirens happened earlier than Testament said they would. It was on seeing the looks on everyone's faces. The terror…the panic…the growing desire to claw and trample each other to get out as fast as possible. They were all so terrified of her, even the idea of her being there (although, ironically, the very Gear they feared _was_ among them). No matter where she went or what she did, they always hated her… It was enough to make her pause sitting there.

Necro told her not to start blubbering again and get up. Undine chimed in soon after, although she was much gentler, telling her if they didn't move now they'd waste Testament's effort.

Hearing that, the young woman closed her eyes, inhaled, and slowly rose from her seat.

As best as she could, she started picking her way over the aisles. She had to make sure she was headed to the rear exit.

* * *

The blow had been painful; that much was true. Strong and durable as he was, with skin tough enough to not even be sliced by a Jinki unless it was focused, blunt force was another matter. The toughest skin in the world would merely be a wrapper to the softer organs and skeleton underneath when smacked by an anchor that huge. And in his still-sore-and-weakened state, not to mention surprised, Testament couldn't brace himself before the blow had connected. He began to wonder if Justice had permanently damaged him if he was still having this much trouble recovering. It was clearly possible…

Yet it had still been nothing compared to much stronger blows from someone like Sol or Ky. As a result, he fully regained his bearings long before making impact. Gritting his teeth in anger and rubbing his jaw from the tender spot, he swung his scythe out and pulsed forth his power once again. This time, it began to generate a field of repelling force below him. It wasn't nearly as easy as he made it look. Negating Earth's gravity could easily get out of control and push him back into the heavens, disorientating him worse than before, if he didn't focus it just right. But after years of practice, he managed to slow his descent rapidly as well as swivel his body around as if on a great axis. He touched down a moment later, going ahead and actually setting his feet.

The Gear looked up and around, and noted that it hadn't taken the humans long to scatter like cockroaches. Already, the immediate area around him was bare. Whoever hadn't noticed him making his portal less than half a minute ago was now hearing the sirens and seeing him in all his glory. Even his tail had briefly been visible as he faltered to the ground, and between his pale skin, red eyes, and the almost bloody scythe he was holding it didn't really matter if he wasn't Dizzy; he looked "Gear enough" to make everyone run for their lives.

He scowled at the sight as the people continued to flee. This was a true mess. Obviously Sol not only had friends helping him this time, but he had added more to his ranks from what Testament had seen. He needed to move. By making him jump the gun and foiling him, that meant Sol had to have anticipated exactly what he would do. But the fact he hadn't gone after him himself meant he might have been smart enough to realize his entire act was a diversion. He was going after Dizzy and strong as she was he wasn't willing to see if Sol could get lucky. After all, he had somehow defeated Justice.

"Pardon me, sir."

The Gear was so unaccustomed to being addressed that he almost ignored that comment for a moment, until he realized with everyone fleeing, even the local soldiers until they could get backup, that it had to be toward him. He looked up.

In the midst of the civilians pushing each other away, the vendors turning and leaving with their wares as fast as they could to not lose their sole livelihood, and even the military and police regrouping to mount a proper assault on him, Testament saw a single individual in a wide-brimmed black hat and black coat with a cart selling (of all things) sunglasses standing his ground and grinning at him.

"Since the rest of the patrons are leaving, can I interest you in a pair of shades?" He tapped his own. "They match black perfectly and we obviously shop at the same store."

The Gear sneered as he rose to full height, recognizing him immediately from the cathedral. "So…you're in on this too. When it comes to killing Gears, even outlaws are tolerated by your systems of law and order."

"That's where you're wrong, sir." Johnny answered as he adjusted his shades. "We're here to _save_ her, which is more than what I can say for you."

Testament scoffed. "Is that what passes for humor in humans nowadays? Even I don't remember a joke so asinine."

"If you have your way, you'll end up turning her into a mass murderer. Think the world will ever leave her in peace after that?" The man shot back.

"And _you_ only want her welfare, I'm sure." He hissed. "How rich. You expect me to believe a human actually wants to defend a Gear. Just how foolish do you think I am, thief?"

"I don't really care if you believe me or not. It's the truth either way." Johnny answered as he flicked back his coat, revealing the hilt of his concealed bokken. "You can either help us get her out of here safe and sound with no civilian casualties, or you can put your little Grim Reaper tool up and get ready for a fight."

"Well, I don't really care if you wish to convince me or not. I'm not wasting time on the likes of you. Especially knowing full well you're just buying time."

Immediately, he spun around and aimed himself at the theater. He took a step forward toward it…

When his knee suddenly felt a jolting pain come from behind it. Giving just the mildest exhale, Testament suddenly faltered down to the ground, his red eyes widening a bit at how he had been struck. He rose again and spun around, just as a tinkle of metal hit the ground. He briefly looked to it; spotting a small gold coin, almost thick enough to be a dubloon, hitting the ground. He looked back up to Johnny afterward, seeing him smirking as his thumb and fist remained extended in a manner of flicking a coin.

"You really shouldn't turn your back on a warrior, you know."

Testament glared back darkly a moment, but then merely swung his scythe to one side. As energy gathered around it, he moved his other arm across with the intent of seizing it and tearing into reality again.

The move required too much focus. He couldn't react as the air pirate fished another coin out of his palm and flicked that as well, this time hitting him perfectly on the tendons in his arm. Giving another mild hiss, the scythe almost got knocked out of his grasp, breaking the spell. He managed to catch it again, but his red eyes soon blazed at the man.

"Get it yet, friend?" Johnny answered, his voice suddenly turning from easy-going to sharper and colder. "You're _not_ going anywhere. Not unless you deal with me."

The teeth of the Gear showed. His eyes looked around. The crowds had nearly cleared the street by now, but the sirens were getting louder. Farther than that, off in the distance, he heard the sounds of their war machines beginning to fire up. Soon they'd be coming for him, but he knew the police force and infantry would arrive first. He couldn't deal with all of them at once along with a decent fighter like the pirate; not in his current state. And he definitely wasn't going to be able to get to Dizzy dealing with him.

 _Well, if he's so eager to die…_

Tightening his grip again, Testament readied the scythe as he hovered off of the ground slightly.

"Have it your way."

* * *

It took only moments for Chipp to reset the timers. Luckily they were so simple that the infant of the crew of the Jellyfish Pirates could practically work them, much less someone not terribly mechanically inclined. Just like letting him know where these needed to be planted was an easy matter of looking up the modular designs for most modern parking garages and letting him go at it, even if he wasn't that experienced with demolition.

Of course, he didn't jump right in on it. He couldn't. He wouldn't have the freedom to go about and plant those bombs without anyone noticing right at first. Instead, he stayed to the shadows and watched the nearest camera the moment the sirens started to blare. For a few precious seconds, that was all he could do, waiting to see what would come next if anything.

Then it hit. The light suddenly went dead. Immediately he went to work.

He was honestly surprised that it had worked. Apparently, that Ky really knew his stuff. He wished back when he was still a drug dealer he would have known about those codes. Heck, even today it would be useful to someone who practiced ninjitsu. One code word and suddenly the city was blind to him and his activities. And with his innate speed, he quickly darted about, putting the bombs in each location that he had been told. Most of them were next to support columns, and the sequence in which they were placed looked like they'd try to get the under-construction building to collapse on itself rather than explode outward. Aside from the random tool or scaffold or set of building materials that happened to catch him in the shin as he ran about, it was easy work, which was all the better for him because each one of these bombs was counting down and he wanted to be as far away from them as possible when they went off.

Assuming everything went according to plan, they couldn't just make Dizzy disappear. They had to have some sort of cover story. Namely they had to fool the world into thinking she was dead. So long as they did, the hunt would be off. She had passed as a human for so long with no way to tell the difference. No one really had a good idea of what she looked like. So with her believed to be dead, if they could smuggle her out of the country she'd be free to start a new life wherever she wanted.

Of course, there was the fact that they were treating her in this scenario like she was a helpless, weak child and not the apocalyptic doom-bringer who had leveled a good part of Adalwolf. Needless to say, after going one-on-one with Testament a bit, Chipp wasn't looking to get in a fight with her. In fact, he was keeping his eyes and ears open for any sign of her.

As it turned out, he would get it before long. After setting over half the bombs and still only two minutes into when the sirens had blared, Chipp found himself up on the second floor. Some of the support columns on the first had already been covered with steel-reinforced concrete. He needed to actually get higher to make the implosion work properly on the still-exposed columns. As a result, he found himself in an area mostly blocked off by industrial plastic, being used only to keep moisture out and wind. From the bags of cement and the mixer it looked like where they prepared concrete for patch jobs. Obviously not being used right now between the time of year and the situation. When the ninja glanced out the window toward the theater, taking note of how heavy the snowfall was getting, he spotted her and immediately pressed himself against the wall. He didn't want to do the slightest thing to get her attention toward him.

She was dressed rather elegantly, like any other attendee might be. And without her wings and tail exposed, he almost mistook her for someone else, especially with the increasing snow. But he caught her hair, and the light touched her eyes just right to give them that reddish tint as she ran up to the building.

He stayed still and kept himself pressed against the wall. She would either try to cut right through or she would go up the stairwell and try to get a better vantage point. Sol confessed the latter was more likely, which is why they were supposed to be up there to stop her when she got that far. He was to stay out of sight himself, which suited him just fine during the planning phase. Stay away from her and let the big guns handle her. He just had to make sure he stayed out of sight the whole time. Make sure she didn't even think he was there. Then he'd be free to finish his own job and get out of there.

The only problem, he realized, was that he hadn't seen Sol or Ky head in that direction. There was a chance they had snuck around him, he supposed. He had been so focused on keeping himself hidden he hadn't paid much attention to other noises. However, he was fairly sure no one had gone by him on the stairwells. So what would that mean if she got there before they were in position? He wasn't supposed to try and hold her off himself, was he? The thought made him more than a bit nervous…

"Oh, so _you're_ the one putting out these little gadgets."

Chipp nearly jumped at hearing the calm, measured voice not far from him. Yet his own memory recognized it was male and not the voice of Testament, meaning it wasn't anyone who was a real threat, or so he assumed. His eyes drifted across the room and spotted the source.

It was the man from the cathedral again. Bare chested in spite of the cold, and pushing up his glasses slightly with one hand.

The ninja blinked, and forgot his voice for a moment. "Y…you? What are you doing here?"

"Surprised, eh?" He smirked as he walked in. He raised his other hand a moment later. Chipp saw it contained one of the bombs he had placed, only turned off now.

"This is the fifth one I found. The first two took a bit of searching, but after that I realized they were all on the support columns. So…is that the big plan? Wait for her to walk through here trying to take out that duct to Tiergarten Reactor, then blow her up along with the building?"

Chipp reacted in even more surprise to that. "How…how did you know about that?"

"Simple deduction. Found it in a crime novel once from prior to the Crusades. The criminals meant to electronically steal a great deal of money, then do something to ruin the computer systems to cover their tracks. The same principal works here. Do something that knocks out the power to this part of Germany and you're free to go where you will."

At that, the man lowered his hand and frowned.

"The _real_ question…is how _you_ not only knew about it, but why you declined to tell anyone about it. But that doesn't matter right now." He turned his hand over and let the bomb fall to the ground with a light thud. "All that matters is I'm not about to let you go through with it. I can't have you blowing up that Gear before I've had a chance to even meet with her face-to-face."

The young man stared a bit longer before frowning and sighing. "Look…I really don't have time for this. We're on a tight schedule and-"

"You're going to have to make time." The man answered as his hands went to his sides. A moment later, he brought them up and unfurled a pair of golden fans. Chipp hesitated again on seeing those. While he had been mostly preoccupied with Testament, from what he briefly saw in the Cathedral, this guy was somehow able to hold Sol off with those things. That wasn't good… "Because otherwise I'm going to keep going until I've found and disarmed every last bomb you set."

Hearing this made Chipp scowl. "Look, man, this isn't your business. Get out of here or you're going to regret it."

"It isn't your business either. And I'm not leaving until I've seen that Gear. Technically you're wasting my time talking to me when she could be here soon, so…"

Both fans brandished in front of him.

"I'll start if you don't want to."

Chipp cursed himself mentally for thinking he was so much in the clear without security he didn't hear this man come in to begin with, let alone give him this headache now. They really didn't need this. This entire operation had to be precise, and everyone involved had to be available to jump in if necessary. He didn't want to take the time to beat up anyone on the side, but if he was really disarming the bombs.

"What the hell is your deal, anyway?" He snapped after a moment. "What's the Gear to you? Why do you keep wanting to talk to her?"

"I'm tired of my life lacking so many answers." The man responded. "I'm tired of people running around deciding all matters of consequence and not letting those it impacts have any say in it. It was decided that I would be bred like a prize steer without my consent. It was decided where I would live, who would educate me, and what occupation I would have without my consent. My nation was destroyed and my people made an endangered species and the truth of what was behind it hidden and lost to history without my consent or that of anyone else. And now the one individual who may be able to answer a question about that is going to be destroyed without my consent."

Chipp opened his mouth to protest.

"To be honest, I don't know if you plan to kill her or relocate her, and either way is irrelevant." The man interrupted before he could speak. "Either way removes her from me. I'm not going to let that happen. I want answers. I want to shed light on who created the individuals like her in the first place and why she lives while the others are in living death."

The ninja groaned. "Listen, I don't know who you are or why you're crazy, but while _I'm_ trying to save her, you're being some nutcase who's going to get himself killed, get most of those people out there killed, and ruin the whole plan to save her in the first place. So this is my last warning to you to get lost before I start-"

Chipp cut himself off. Without a word, the man in glasses snapped his hand back and flung one of the fans forward. His wrist snapped it in such a way it immediately became a whirling disk, and sailed straight for the man's head. Going wide eyed, he quickly swung his head out of the way, and was nearly a moment too late. Not only did the fan shoot by and easily slice through one of the vertically-placed girders in the room without losing any speed, but it still took off a few strands of his hair. As they slowly fluttered in front of his face, the fan returned to the man as he snatched it out of the air.

"I discovered attacking people while they're distracted talking makes fights go much faster too." The man in glasses stated.

Gritting his own teeth, Chipp straightened up and brandished his blade in front of him.

"Ok, smartass. You asked for it."

* * *

Ky took off like a shot the moment the code was committed. Even his natural speed didn't seem nearly fast enough to get out of there. After all, even with communications and monitoring down, there had still been more than ample time for a random officer or soldier to come by, see the men he had already disabled, and then catch him running out from the scene.

However, he was charging into the street less than fifteen seconds after throwing the command into the system, and the road he went along was already clear of military or police personnel. Up ahead, he could hear some growing clamor and shouting far down the street. Pretty soon, he was sure he'd run into people fleeing the opposite way, although he could deal with that. Nothing he hadn't handled before, after all. His only remaining concern is that his visibility was dimmed thanks to the falling snow. None of them had counted on it picking up into showers at this point. If it went into a full raging storm, then it would be hard both to see and hear anyone. But it might work to their advantage in producing additional cover…

A buzzing went off in his ear. Although none of them had been too easy about working with each other, before going out onto the field everyone had received the same earpiece transmitters that Johnny and his crew used. Rather crude compared to what the IPF was issued, but effective and running on coded channels. Even so, knowing how tight security had to be, Ky had suggested they only use them in emergencies. That made him feel a bit uneasy as he reached his ear and tapped it.

"This is Ky. What's wrong?"

 _"_ _Last minute change of plans."_ The voice of Sol responded.

On hearing the words and tying them into who was speaking, Ky almost stumbled.

 _"_ _Testament looks like he's got more fight in him than I anticipated. Help out Johnny first then come after me. I'll keep her busy until then."_

Now Ky really did slow in his step. His eyes narrowed.

"…No, that's not the plan, Sol. You said both of us would go against her together."

 _"_ _Plans change. You should know that."_

His teeth grit. "Not here. You planned this all along, didn't you? Did you only need me to put in the Holy of Holies?"

 _"_ _I am absolutely telling the truth about two things, Ky. One is that there is no way I can defeat her on my own without ripping apart half of this city myself. The other is that Johnny and many others will die unless you give them assistance against Testament. I'll leave the choice of believing me or not up to you."_

"Sol! Don't-"

Too late. A blip of static went off in his ear, and he was gone.

The former Sacred Order member felt like ripping off the earpiece and smashing it. Even back in the days of the Crusades, Sol had the tendency to do his own thing. But here it was something else. He knew he was telling the truth about those things. He would know even if he hadn't said anything-that even he couldn't take Dizzy alone if she turned hostile. But he also knew he had to have planned this. He knew all along Testament would be too much for Johnny. He sprung this at the last minute to tie him up. But why? Why did he want to go against Dizzy alone?

What had he been trying to say to her back in the cathedral?

He didn't know. He only knew he had only moments to decide. He was reaching his turn in the street for him to either head to the parking garage or out in front of Tiergarten Theater; a choice between trusting Sol, both in the sense of what he was doing as well as staying alive against a Gear that powerful, and possibly letting another man, or multiple people, die. They may have been pirates, but they were still allies. They didn't deserve to be abandoned to a hopeless fight.

 _Hurry and decide, Ky. With this time limit, you might not have time for both if you hesitate but a moment…_

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	22. Men in Black

**"** **Men in Black"**

* * *

 _"_ _Weakened", my ass…_

Johnny was used to having to focus on opponents in strikes or raids that he had been on, and occasionally in the individual battle. That was a good thing because soon he had to put the thought of Dizzy unleashing herself, the police arresting him, the army shooting him, and even the welfare of the pirates aside to even stand his ground against Testament. Perhaps it was the fact he knew that others were going after Dizzy at the moment, but the Gear had gotten a second wind…which was unfortunate because a "first wind" was more than enough to destroy most humans…

Testament launched himself at Johnny faster than any opponent he had ever seen, swinging his blood-red scythe so fast it looked like nothing more than a flourish of blood. He quickly shot back, but that barely saved him as the Gear landed and advanced on him, swinging out his scythe again and again. There was no time to prepare. No time to counter. All he could do was shoot back and away from him as fast as he could as the scythe went out in a blaze, ripping two large trenches in the ground as if the pavement was made of gelatin. The worst part was that a weapon that large and awkward actually seemed to be giving him _trouble_. He hated to see what he would do with one that suited him.

Testament broke briefly after the third strike and held his open palms in front of him. The scythe rotated and seemed to hover up to a new position, and he choked up on the staff before swinging the weapon out for his head. The pirate quickly shot back again, but the force was too much. He actually felt his cheek stung by the power of the slash so hard that the skin split. With nothing but air, blood had been drawn. Quickly the Gear brought the scythe around for another slice, moving in as he did so. Unable to evade this one, the pirate finally planted his feet and raised his sheathed katana to try his first block.

 _Bad idea…_

He almost felt like his hand had been ripped off. As it was, to keep his arm from being dislocated as the scythe hooked his sheathed weapon and ripped it aside, the pirate had to allow himself to be yanked to one side. Unfortunately, this left him wide open as Testament shot forward and leapt into the air again, pinning him with the scythe and then lashing out with one of his feet. He didn't even have time to mourn the loss of his weapon being ripped out of his hands before the blow knocked the wind completely out of him, sending him reeling back and smacking into a brick wall along the road.

The one hit was more than enough to cause Johnny's vision to dim. He felt like something had been damaged in his insides. Not only that, but as his body throbbed in pain from taking only a single kick from the Gear, he realized one of his hands was light. This was confirmed a moment later as he heard a wooden clatter: the sound of his sword falling away from the Gear's scythe and to the ground as he began to advance again.

In spite of feeling dizzy, sore, and now having no weapon, Johnny grunted and began to get up again. He was seeing three of Testament, but he forced himself to smirk and charged him anyway, still trying to figure out what he was supposed to do when he got there…

"Just…getting warmed up…"

 _Only way to is through…_

Quickly, he snapped his hand into his coat and emerged with two coins on his knuckle, one already perched on his thumb. He flicked both at the Gear in such rapid succession one would think he had launched both at once out of a slingshot, and at two different angles. Testament didn't break his charge, immediately slicing out his scythe in just the right path to cleave both in two with one cut. However, that was what Johnny had hoped for: using the ungainly size of the weapon in a wide cut against him, as he extended his fingers and revealed a playing card tucked in them. Immediately, he flicked this out as well with the speed of an assassin's dart against Testament's exposed face and jabbed him in the left eye with the corner.

The Gear's skin was tougher than bullet-proof material, including his eyes. Still didn't mean that just because it didn't pierce his vitreous humor that a good old fashioned eye-poke didn't hurt. He winced and recoiled, and, realizing that was the best chance he was going to get, Johnny dove forward right underneath his legs. The Gear recovered just in time to swing the end of the scythe staff downward to try and stop him, but it only managed to tag his coat; burning through it like it was superheated. Johnny continued to shoot by on the slick, wet street, reaching out and seizing his weapon. As soon as he had it, he immediately rolled on his back, just in time to avoid Testament's considerable speed as he spun around and swung the scythe down where he had been, ripping another smoldering trench into the street. He quickly yanked back out and cleaved for Johnny's middle, but this time he rolled back and pulled his legs up, letting the deadly weapon just narrowly miss slicing through his spine.

Quickly, he snapped his body around and got himself to his feet, bringing his sword around and drawing it in a rapid slash for Testament's chest. He already knew the result before the sword left its sheath. The Gear merely stood where he was as the sword sliced harmlessly over him like an attempt to cut through several pounds of wet rubber. He actually smirked a bit at the attempt. Luckily, that was what Johnny had wanted. Even taking the blow afforded him a moment to regain his footing as opposed to letting Testament take off his head with his next strike, so he quickly moved back and readied himself.

He didn't have long to rest. The Gear was on him in an instant, swinging his scythe out in deadly arcs. In spite of the size and ungainly shape, he was more rapid and skilled with it than one would think possible. Johnny knew trying to intercept one of these slashes would simply disarm him again, and next time he might not be so lucky to evade it. Yet as Testament advanced on him, he realized he wasn't getting anywhere simply dodging back as the blade got nearer and nearer to cutting him.

 _Well, they say the best defense…_

As the blade came close enough to tag his coat, Johnny suddenly sprung backward, not merely backpedaling this time but actually backflipping. The method wasn't entirely just for flair, for doing so threw up his long black coat in a flourish. The result obscured the movement of his body momentarily, which, as he hoped, caused Testament to hesitate; expecting another surprise attack. Unfortunately, Johnny couldn't seize it. He had to take the moment in order to regain his footing. These few moves were already getting his heart racing and his lungs panting. He had to at least focus in order to have a chance.

He used the moment to walk to the side slightly, positioning himself in front of the same dummy cart he had brought in…

Testament, realizing he wasn't seizing the moment, only gave him an instant or two before he swung his scythe down at the ground. A splash of red erupted from the blade, as if part of it had suddenly turned into liquid. On contact with the pavement, it drew itself up and formed what Johnny could only describe as a small little "pig demon". Whether it was some sort of magical construct doppleganger or a genuine article didn't really matter; in either event it ripped itself in two, and both of the resulting monsters quickly flattened and expanded to form a duo before shooting right at his ankles, and in his pause to wonder if they were real he found out a moment later when one of them formed a tiny pitchfork out of its own essence and jabbed it into his ankle. The rather sharp pain and the feeling of blood springing from the point of contact soon gave him the answer. Quickly, his sword left its sheath and lashed out, cleaving both of them apart…

Only to realize he lost his only advantage. Again leaving the ground and seeming to glide toward him, Testament reared back his scythe and lunged forward. In his panic at the sudden attack, Johnny realized he had lost his footing, and in his anxiety he nearly raised his sword to block before remembering this would only yield in him being disarmed. The only move left to him was to backpedal, and he remembered to do that too late as the scythe came down.

It didn't just hit the coat this time. As the pirate clenched his teeth and felt a deep, penetrating, searing burn flash through one side of his chest, the end of the scythe sliced through into his outer layer of skin. Quickly, he continued to backpedal as he reached up and tore off the remains of his coat, now bursting into flame from the impact of the scythe where it had been cut, before the fire could spread to burn him more. The point of contact from the slice felt like hot coals had been driven into his skin even now although the cut hadn't gone as deep as it could have, and he could feel it still burning as he kept moving. Even with his experience with pain, it took almost all Johnny's focus just to keep moving.

And he had to keep going, for Testament didn't relent. He snapped forward faster and more brutally than ever. While Johnny managed to bite back the agony, his footing had been lost and he hadn't the time to regain it. What more, he couldn't keep backpedaling forever. The snow was still coming down hard and accumulating where it could, meaning the pavement was wet and slick. He couldn't concentrate on standing there, backing up, and suppressing his pain all at the same time. Testament didn't have to worry at all with his ability to glide, and to him Johnny was "just one more human to slay".

But if he could only go a little further…just to the cart…

The scythe lashed out in vertical downward cut. This one got too close. Johnny had no choice but to quickly draw his katana and cross it in front of him. Even now, he still felt his flesh being seared inside and out from the first cut. He couldn't take another or he really would be dead. Pushing the blade against his own body at the point of contact, he planted his legs and dug in, making contact with the scythe and just barely able to deflect it, but unfortunately that was too little. It had forced him to stop his movements and left him open again. The Gear knew it, and quickly reared his scythe back to take off his head, and he was still just a bit too far away from the cart.

As a result, Johnny relied on something a bit impromptu.

Lashing out with one of his feet, he scooped a small bit of accumulated snow on the tip of his boot, and then snapped it out to fling it right in Testament's eyes.

The face of the Gear tightened in annoyance as he swung wildly, trying to follow through with the attack in spite of being blinded. However, it had done its job. It both stalled the Gear and disrupted his attack for a few fractions of a second, allowing Johnny to backstep the rest of the way to the cart. He also learned something valuable. Testament's eyes were more vulnerable than he thought. Not only were they more susceptible to damage, but they seemed to have vulnerabilities to temperature changes and objects thrown in them, just like human eyes would. He took that as an encouraging sign as he stood alongside the cart and again planted his feet, taking a moment to breathe.

Testament's eyes cleared at last as he lunged for Johnny, but that was just what he was hoping for. While the Gear was still a ways off, his sword drew, swung around, and smacked against the ground so hard that it produced a spark before he returned it to its sheath. At once, Testament slowed. He realized that the pirate had done something; that he was setting off some sort of trap. But as he tried to think of what it was while looking about, trying to spot the source, he noticed too late the spark had set off some sort of powder trail. To the tune of a sharp crackling, it rapidly burned itself underneath the thin layer of snow that had accumulated on it since Johnny had first set it down right before calling Testament out, right back to the cart and into it…

Being a pirate, Johnny was more than used to setting traps for attackers, and had used carts like this one on multiple occasions for that purpose. This particular trap he had set was essentially a great cannon that blasted out a powder-heavy charge designed to not only pulverize the very sunglass lenses set on the cart, which weren't made of standard lens material at all but rather a very fibrous mineral used by more hostile nations for unethical crowd control, but launched them out with explosive force in a shower of dust. Johnny normally reserved it for the worst offenders when he needed to incapacitate a whole group of them, as it could lead to permanent blindness and respiratory problems. He didn't dare use it before when he first encountered Testament. There were still too many people close by. If he had been a human opponent, doing it now would be likewise unacceptable as it would most certainly kill from this range.

But being a Gear…

Johnny whirled his head away and slapped a hand over the side of his sunglasses as a tremendous bang went off from the cart, annihilating the top of it and sending out a plume of powder in its wake, but mostly directed right toward Testament. The Gear went wide-eyed; just as he hoped. A moment later, he gave out a cry of his own as his eyes slammed shut and he backpedaled, but even though the cry was only meant to be a mild exclamation, it still degenerated into a gag, for getting the fibrous material in his eyes wasn't nearly bad as inhaling it. He soon felt dozens of tiny jabs in his eyes as well as down his throat and lungs, and in his stunned surprise he recoiled, spreading his arms wide and exposing his chest.

 _My only chance. I've got to take a piece of him out on this…_

At once, Johnny sprang into action. Ignoring his own still-agonizing pain, he lunged right at the Gear, bringing both hands around and seizing his weapon. His style was made for slashing, not outright stabbing, and in his current pain level he knew he couldn't aim it right. But he remembered Sol telling him that Testament was still nursing internal injuries that he had only aggravated in their last skirmish even if his skin looked intact. With that in mind, the pirate drew out this cane with the force of a small battering ram as he threw himself at the retreating Testament for all he was worth. A moment later, the end came around and buried itself right where the injury had occurred.

Testament's eyes snapped open again, now in genuine pain. Johnny fought the desire to light up as he realized he had genuinely hurt the Gear. The pale-faced fighter doubled over, his mouth opening wide to gag even louder than before as the anguish struck him. Yet that too was intentional. Quickly, the cane returned to Johnny's side before he kept charging forward, seizing the Gear by his shoulders, and then, while simultaneously tackling him and shoving his body down, did an odd sort of leaping lunge where he forced Testament to the ground and brought his knee up into his neck at the same time. The end result was Testament slamming against the stone pavement while Johnny threw almost his whole weight on top of him-in particular his knee smashing down into his throat.

The man's eyes bulged, now turning red from irritation, and snapped his mouth open wider…this time splattering blood out of it.

It wasn't the most elegant strategy in the world, but Johnny began to unload on him for all he was worth. His blade useless against his skin, he kept pinning him down as he snapped up his cane and slammed it across Testament's face again and again. Rather than knocking it either way, he smashed it as close as he could to the weaker bone areas of the skull, hoping he could knock through the skin and crack something there. The Gear was weakened already and he couldn't have been in good shape after that last hit, but even then he only slammed him about four times before he felt him getting strong enough to start wriggling under him. Immediately, Johnny planted his hands on him, reared his body back and out, tucked his legs under, and then swung them down-driving both knees into his old injury again. Letting out another agonized gag with more blood, Testament went limp again, allowing him to keep beating away at his head.

 _Pass out…_ He thought with each smash of the pole into his head. _Pass out… Pass out…_

Before he could bring it down yet again, something black suddenly smashed right into his vision, smacking into one of his lenses with such power it not only cracked it but nearly forced the shards back into his own eye. Gritting his teeth, Johnny reared back, slamming his eye shut and reaching for his head. With a quick gesture he tore his broken glasses away and reached for his eye that had nearly been pierced, and looked up with his good one; noticing a black raven swooping back into the snow-filled sky. He vaguely remembered seeing that bird before, and realized it had to belong to Testament. His mind realized this had been yet another distraction move…

He didn't have time to recover. The white fist of the Gear lashed out and seized him by the throat in a crushing grip, tightening like a vise. His now exposed eyes flashed back downward, seeing the only slightly-marred face of Testament glaring at him with enraged red eyes. Before Johnny could even gag, he yanked his head down and smashed his own skull into it.

Johnny honestly felt his head being thrown onto the concrete street would have been gentler. His senses were completely knocked for a loop as a bloody gash was opened across his forehead, all before the Gear leaned up just enough to cock back his fist and drive it forward, burying it into the pirate's gut. Again, his sword was knocked out of his grasp from the sheer power knocking into his abdomen, sending his stomach for a loop along with his already spinning senses. By the time he collided with the ground and toppled, he was only seeing stars and hearing the world like it was at the end of a tunnel.

Testament himself only slowly got to his feet. The light bruising on his head didn't seem to even distract him, but one hand was kept on his middle, and his breathing was ragged and labored from the particulate matter lodged in it. His skin was durable. The inside of him, on the other hand, not so much. He actually couldn't spring back into a hover. Rather, he used his other hand to swing his scythe down and use it as a crutch as he began to advance once again on Johnny. His face was stretched in pain but mostly the raw fury at a human having done all of this to him. By now, the sound of police sirens was coming audible. Fast even for Berlin police in the center of the city, but it didn't matter why they were there so quickly. All that mattered was they were nearly there and the fleeing crowds were all that was keeping them at bay.

After another step, he managed to shift up to hold his scythe in both hands. Johnny, on his part, was still coming to and sprawled out, only able to get his limbs working a bit beneath him and not even fully aware of his closing enemy. His weapon was discarded far behind Testament, and there was no way he'd be able to seize it this time. As the Gear neared, he raised the weapon and readied to bring down the finishing blow, and all Johnny could do was groggily look up at him and tighten his jaw, struggling to find the strength to roll out of the way or do something to stop him.

"Testament."

The single world cutting through the air, cold and forceful, yet also a calm, controlled contrast compared to that of the screaming, fleeing individuals, made the Gear hesitate as well as the pirate on the ground. Both looked to who had spoken, although in Testament's case it involved turning completely around while Johnny just glanced up.

It was rather hard to miss. Seeming nearly enveloped in the electricity casting off of his blade, emitting an electric blue shine refracted and enhanced by the falling snow, Ky Kiske stood with Thunderseal naked and primed to attack to one side. Yet once Testament faced him, he quickly brought it up and readied to swing.

"By authority of the IPF, desist now."

With a large swipe, he swung his blade and discharged a concentrated packet of electrical energy at him.

Testament crossed his scythe blade to block, looking like that was all he had the strength for at the moment, but it did no good. The bolt was magical in nature and didn't properly obey the rules of physics, and the Gear was too weakened and distracted to properly focus his own counterspell to negate it. Hence, the electricity shot through the scythe as if it was made of common conducting metal and snaked into his body. In spite of his own power, Ky's magic was beyond that of almost any other human. The Gear arched his head back and cried out in agony from the pain of the deadly energy coursing through him. That bolt would have instantly killed a normal man. Ky had accelerated his technique to "Gear levels" for this.

The white-skinned man staggered back a step, almost faltering for a moment as the bolts cascaded around him. Yet in spite of that, he managed to stabilize and lower his head. His eyes opened, tinted an even deeper red with fresh rage. Seething now, for not only was his old injury agonizing him again, his throat was still leaking blood from the fragments, and now he was meeting an opponent who could hurt him back, he threw himself forward with all of his might at Ky, forcing himself back into the air as he swung his scythe at the ground, splattering more of the red fluid against it and generating a trio of hellish imps that shot at Ky even faster.

"I'll…never let you…have her…" His voice choked out in a horrid rasp, blood dribbling from his lips. "I'd… _die_ …first!"

Johnny, by now, was recovered enough to prop up his body just enough to watch, and saw Ky plant his feet and stand his ground. While his muscles tightened, the rest of him was cool and composed; not just from rest but from his very manner in combat. He swung the Thunderseal down and slammed it against the ground. The energy flashing off of it seemed to sink into the pavement, only to erupt a moment later as a white-hot spike of lightning right beneath the incoming proxies. Giving out pig-like squeals, each one was instantly annihilated. But Testament wasn't daunted. Bursting right through the energy with even more savage ferocity than he had shown Johnny, he reared his scythe back and swung it at Ky's head with all of his force. The former Sacred Order member raised his sword to block, and a bolt of electricity from the impact was knocked off with such power that it annihilated part of the masonry on a nearby building.

Testament didn't relent. He continued to advance even more aggressively and wildly, striking at Ky again and again. Johnny, forcing his body to roll up, knew one of those blows would have taken him down, or _should_ have taken him down as savage and ferocious as the Gear was attacking. He began to realize why he was doing this. The injuries were taking a toll. He was already weakened going into this. He was basically on his last legs, trying to take out one of the hardest targets as quickly and brutally as possible before his stamina gave out and he had to leave the rest of Dizzy.

Unfortunately, his blows weren't nearly as potent as he hoped. And, in spite of how that would have been more than enough against anyone else, Ky apparently wasn't all talk as he retreated but also continued to parry each blow. Johnny was practically gaping. One of those hits would have taken off his hand if he tried to parry it, but either Testament really was weakening, Ky was just that strong, or some mixture of the two. For a moment it didn't look like it would help him, as the former Sacred Order member was just blocking…

Then, the Gear made an error. Twisting his scythe around and down to try and bring it in an upward vertical slash, he left an opening. Focusing his own strength, tightening his grip, and planting his feet, Ky gave a small yell before swinging the Thunderseal down as hard as he could on the inward curvature of the scythe. The blow was too much even for the Gear. Between his weakness and the fact one of his arms was still tingling and numb from the bolt, his grip slipped and the scythe actually fell to the ground. By the time its bloody edge made a "clack" against the pavement and his own eyes had gone wide, the Thunderseal was flaring with fresh electricity again as Ky yanked it back and drove it forward.

Testament had boasted that even a piece of the Overdrive was like a dinner knife compared to his skin. But even a dinner knife driven forward with sufficient force by a high-order magic against a Gear whose flesh was weak from constant inner regeneration was enough to pierce. A moment later, blood erupted from Testament's upper arm as the blade of the Thunderseal skewered it like a toothpick through a sausage.

Now the Gear truly did cry out in agony as Ky, standing still and holding the blade there, poured the full measure of his lightning magic into the weapon. His body lit up like a neon light and cascaded one white-hot bolt after another off of it as the former Sacred Order member subjected him to agony far worse than any electric chair. Even if Testament had been at full power there would have been little hope of being able to withstand such a potent attack from Ky without getting at least weaker. In his current state, it ravaged him inside and out and cooked the wound he had driven into him, ensuring no quick regeneration or healing. That limb was effectively dead at this point. The rest of him wasn't much better.

Ripping his sword back out at last while simultaneously cutting off the energy, Ky let Testament loose. Johnny would have adjusted his sunglasses in disbelief if he still had them as he watched the Gear finally go down. He didn't collapse all the way. At the last moment, he managed to stick out his own good hand to stop him from falling all together, but his legs collapsed underneath him and his arm, singed, smoldering, and looking like beef jerky in some spots, was useless. The scythe itself, released, clattered fully to the ground and began to melt away into fluid again. Testament was left with head bowed, rasping, and continuing to dribble blood from his lips.

He was done.

The electricity soon surged into Ky's blade again, and he advanced on Testament. He didn't run, but neither did he take a leisurely stroll to reach him. The snow was falling so heavily by now that even from his close distance Johnny could barely make out the look on the man's face. It was cold and steely; stern, but not necessarily angry. He couldn't see Testament's own expression, but had he been able to he would have seen the man's face was strained, agonized, and yet defiant to the last; gazing up at Ky as he neared. He looked like he wanted to move, but it seemed the Gear recognized the futility of it. He had no weapon, his body was mostly numbed from that last blast, and he was too weak to do anything except hasten his demise.

Once Ky was near enough, he halted. With a sizzling sound like a Faraday cage, the Thunderseal went up and pointed itself at Testament's chest. There, the man stood still. Bolts snaked off of the blade now and then, but other than that it simply remained pointed at the Gear. A bit to Johnny's own surprise as he managed to start getting his legs underneath him again, nothing happened.

"…What are you waiting for?" A spiteful hiss came out. Hoarse and strained as it was, it wasn't nearly as much as before. In spite of the lung trauma, Testament had to at least be adjusting to it. "Do what you're best at, human. Finish me."

Johnny wasn't sure why he didn't. Nor was he sure why that look in his eyes didn't change. He might have been willing to give Dizzy a berth, but this one was just a killer. He saw humanity as nothing more than a stain to be cleaned up, and he was willing to kill millions today to do it. Where most Gears had an excuse in the form of Justice, he just wanted them dead all by himself. And yet, Ky didn't move. He'd never get an easier chance to kill him, yet he wouldn't deliver the thrust.

 _"_ _Nicht bewegen! Hebt die hande in die luft!"_

Both Ky and Johnny looked up at that, and the pirate spotted it to the tune of a curse. They had taken too long. Now he saw white beams shooting out from the falling snow to spill over them: flashlight beams. He wasn't sure if it was the police or military. The gruffness in the voice was hard to distinguish. However, he did hear clicking around him; obviously the sound of firearms. Quickly glancing over either shoulder, he saw the beams were coming not just from one side but from two others, with the wall of the nearest building making up the fourth. They were surrounded. No doubt they had used the time fighting to move into position.

But he also realized something more important: both of them had taken their eyes off of Testament.

He already heard that cosmic ripping sound again by the time he glanced back at him. The Gear, in spite of his condition, worked fast. He seized the moment he went unobserved and quickly traced his good arm through the air, making not a full scythe but rather a bloody dagger of some sort. As quickly and rapidly as he could, he lashed out and cut the air, opening another one of those rifts. Ky was looking at him by the time it was complete, and in another moment he would have given him another jolt. Yet he hadn't the time. With all the force left in him, he threw his body forward in a somersault and half-rolled, half-toppled into the rift. A moment later, it rapidly sealed up behind him and he was gone.

The German authorities shouted even louder than before at that. The sounds of clicking weapons rang out, and one even fired a shot into the air, causing distant screaming from the still-fleeing civilians. Johnny had to admit they were in a bad spot. Even at his best he was surrounded by targets and they clearly had a better view of him than vice versa. All he could make out were a few shadowy figures around them, especially since the light beams were blinding him from making out much detail. He really wished he would have thought of an exit plan in this situation…

But before he could start assessing his options, the decision was made for him.

Ky abruptly spun around, brandished his sword skyward, and sent out the largest bolt of lightning heavenward yet.

A moment later, and it was Johnny's turn to slam his eyes shut and cover them in agony. The white-hot bolt was as blinding as the real deal, and refracted against the countless flakes of glittering snow falling down had created a blast so potent even someone with their eyelids closed would have felt a piercing sting. Cries of anguish in German went off all around him as the pirate himself lifted his good arm to his eyes and rubbed painfully…

Only to find that arm suddenly seized and, with a mighty pull, his entire body yanked to its feet by it. He scarcely had time to get his feet underneath him before he found himself being pulled away at a running gait. Between the suddenness of the action and his temporary blindness, he had no idea what was going on for a moment. But in a few seconds, the voices of the German officers, going from pained cries to angry shouting, began to fade, and darkness loomed about them in a close environment. As his vision cleared, he found himself being dragged through a street alley.

And he also found Ky was the one pulling him along.

"Can you walk?" He called behind him.

The tone was so sharp and hurried that it was clear he didn't want to waste time. Therefore, although he was still a bit groggy, Johnny managed a moan and then an answer. "I've had worse. …Can't think of when at the moment, but I'm sure I've had-"

"Then get a move on as soon as we get to the next street. I've wasted too much time here as it is." Ky coldly responded.

The pirate frowned, but worked to move along more with his own two feet. He had bounced back from worse, yes, but usually he had a bit more time.

"He got away, though."

"Don't worry about him. I could sense just how dim his electrical impulses had become. The best he'll be able to manage assuming he can even get there is standing up. He might try anyway, but he's not the concern right now. Dizzy is."

"Can you get her?"

Johnny didn't get an answer. By now, they were emerging from the alley. The moment they were out, Ky almost dragged the pirate over to a wall, let him prop himself partially against it, and then took off. He might not have been a Gear, but even so the man was stunned at how fast Ky was able to take off and vanish into the snow.

He snorted a bit, but he knew it would do no good to get upset now. They were on a tight schedule as it was and he had slipped up on taking care of his own part by needing to be bailed out in the first place. While he was a bit curious as to how Ky knew he was going to need help, he didn't dwell on it. He had other concerns at the moment; namely in getting to the truck the girls were appropriating. If he was too late it'd be him left behind in a locked-down Berlin, and his own fortune wouldn't be much better than that of a Gear.

Sucking it up, he forced himself to start limping along as fast as he could against the wall, waiting for adrenaline to knock out his pain.

* * *

By now, Millia had attracted far more attention than just that of Venom.

She wasn't sure if it was from her own escape or Venom's theft of the car, or something even far more serious such as the Gear picking now of all times to show herself, but she was soon in a mad rush. She didn't dare slow down for a second as she went along. She knew from experience that Venom had once taken out a target merely by driving up behind them and then hitting a cue ball with such force it went through his windshield, in through the windshield on the car in front of him, and then through the man's head. Even without a gun, he was in a position to keep her in a deadly situation.

As a result, she was doing nothing short of madness.

In an attempt to lose him, Millia had tried to drive the car into the city. That was a bad move, as not only police vehicles and army vehicles were flowing _out_ of the city, but hundreds of cars as well. Whatever motor vehicles weren't trying to join in to chase her down or block her with getting in her way, forcing her to go onto small parks, through outdoor cafes, along sidewalks, and continuously scrape by every car trying to hem her in. By this point, the local authorities were firing on her. At this very moment, two police vehicles were trying to approach her from dead ahead, pinning her. Not letting go of the gas for a second, she plowed right between them, to the tune of a flurry of sparks coming from grinding metal on either side of her.

A scream came out from her side at that. One thing was for sure: this ride from hell was enough to get Jam back to her senses. She was still groggy and listless, but she was awake again. And soon she screamed again as Millia got the car through the police vehicles only to go right toward a crowd of pedestrians fleeing in front of her. As they screamed in panic and horror, Millia's only thought was that she could never hope to plow through them without slowing down. Gritting her teeth, she snapped the car to a sharp left turn, burning rubber and putting it on two wheels for a moment, before tearing into the nearest alleyway.

She almost missed it this time. The snow was ruining visibility.

"What the heck…we almost his those people back there!" Jam cried.

Millia grit her teeth as they continued to drive through the alley, keeping the wheel as straight as possible to avoid grinding against the sides. Not exactly easy considering everything they had already driven through, the slick roads, and the bullet holes already in the car. "Worry about them when our own safety is assured…"

"There's too many people around here… We're either going to hit someone or crash…"

"I agree, but until we're in the clear there's nothing we can do about it!" Millia shouted back as the exit to the alleyway neared. "If you're alert, then look behind us! See if we managed to lose-"

The former assassin was cut off as they finally rolled out of the alleyway, only to hear a tremendous "pop" from the front of the car. Soon after, it began to drive highly irregular. Enough to where the wobble was noticeable both to her and to her passenger. Gritting her teeth even tighter, Millia cursed in Russian.

Jam clearly didn't like the sound of either noise. "What was that?"

"Road spikes. The police must have tracked us enough to put those in the way…" Millia hissed as she looked more earnestly through the window in front of her. "The snow's getting thicker…and the tire is deflating rapidly…"

"So…what do we do now?"

"If you're a virtuous woman, pray. Otherwise start looking for another turnoff. Maybe if we turn soon enough in this thickening weather we can lose our-"

Millia was cut off as both women snapped forward rather violently, the end result of a sharp impact to the rear. While the Russian immediately tried to stabilize the car with mixed success, for even the bump sent it into a fishtail, Jam looked behind them.

"Oh no, I think that's that guy with the pool balls!" She cried out, even as she frantically reached for her seat belt and began to fasten it.

Millia continued to ignore her own as she somehow managed to get the car back straight again, but it was making a progressively louder grinding noise. She had the accelerator all the way down now but it was still losing speed fast. She began to hiss as she struggled to keep going. They needed an out of this soon. There didn't appear to be anyone else on the road now, but it didn't really matter as the snow was falling so much she couldn't see more than twenty feet ahead of her clearly.

As Jam looked up again, she suddenly pointed out. "There! Turn there!"

The Russian looked in the direction. She couldn't make out much; only that there was a darker portion of street to one side of them. It might have indicated another road, but in this snowfall it might have indicated anything. Yet she didn't have the luxury of waiting for anything better anymore. Hoping enough snow had accumulated on the road to make things slick to where Venom would just keep on sliding if he tried to follow them, she swerved the wheel sharply to one side and made for the opening.

The former assassin only had a moment to see a plastic mesh fence, the kind used for zoning off construction, stretched in front of the opening. Braking at that point was futile. She never had time to read the German warning before the car smashed right through it and kept on going. Once there, Millia finally tried to hit the brakes only for the entire vehicle to suddenly give a lurch downward and the sound of scraping beneath. As the car suddenly went on an incline and accelerated even faster than before, she realized they were now off the road all together. They were on an embankment or a ditch of some sort.

The woman quickly seized the emergency brake and swung it back, but the vehicle had too much momentum. Jam gave a cry out and the two went for a violent tumble as they rolled down whatever dug out area they were in. Vague glimpses of construction equipment, building materials, and power equipment flashed by in front of them and to the sides as they kept rolling down, now hitting fresh powder and their progress made even more inescapable than ever. While the vehicle slowed, it wasn't slowing nearly enough. Both of them knew they could run into a solid object at any time and be in for a tremendous wreck, but were powerless to stop it now. Millia's own blond hair lashed out instinctively and wrapped around her waist and torso before anchoring itself to her seat, forming a living seat belt as she continued to mash the brake and hoped…

Finally, it seemed they were in for some luck. The ground suddenly flattened, and when it did the car lost speed rapidly. After a few heart-pounding moments, Millia began to see the shadow of a steelwork skeleton in front of them, but they were slowing too fast. She realized even if they hit something at this point, the impact wouldn't be fatal. It seemed they were in the clear as the car rolled slower and slower, the snow thinning out ahead of them as they fell under the shadow of a pair of steel girders suspending the under-construction building above them…

But that was when the roof of the structure blocked off the snow entirely, revealing they were rolling to a stop not into a finished basement, but rather a sharp drop off into the sublevels.

Jam cried out again and both women braced themselves as best as they could as the car failed to stop a bit too late, rolling once again off of an edge and plunging downward. For a fateful second, both of their stomachs flew up into their throats as the car free fell two more stories, before a jolting impact slammed both women back into their seats. The entire car smashed itself against a pile of building refuse being collected in a basement trash pile before halting at a downward angle. The engine gave out as it was pierced by a loose girder, the electronics went dead, and to the sounds of ripped lines, leaking air from tires, and hissing from hot parts…the car halted.

The two women lay still a moment. While both were tough and had been buckled in (more or less), not to mention the car had ended up slowing considerably, a wreck was still a wreck. Jam herself was bruised at the point of her seat belt while Millia had knocked the wind out of herself. For a moment, the two merely sat there as the car hissed, settled, and dripped. But finally, the former assassin gave a moan and looked up first, quickly assessing her situation as fast as her senses regained.

They were definitely settled in a large amount of building debris. Assuming the impact hadn't jammed the doors, they could get out with some difficulty. The back of the car had fallen in such a way that it was snapped upward, seeming to take the car like a great book and attempt to "collapse" it. They weren't too cramped up in the front, luckily. The engine had taken most of the impact. Slowly, she began to pull her hair back to her.

Then she heard it. Just up above them.

"Uhn…" Jam moaned as she slowly began to come to life as well. Giving a groan, she straightened in her seat and began to reach for her belt. "This is why I hate motor vehicles… Glad it's over…" She popped the buckle and began to reach for the handle.

Millia's good arm reached out and planted on her shoulder. "Stay where you are."

The cook turned to her with a frown. "Now what?"

"Ssh. Listen."

The younger woman did as she was told. Going still, she inclined her head upward. Millia simply went motionless. The sound of the car continuing to settle rang out around them for a few moments.

But that wasn't all. Over the sound of the car coming to a rest, beyond that another car engine was heard slowing to an idle before being killed. There was someone up above them, at the lip of the drop they had just descended. Both women knew it from that noise alone.

"…Police, maybe?" Jam asked optimistically.

"Police would still be blaring their sirens, flashing their lights, and ordering us to stay in the car." Millia darkly answered. "It's Venom."

The cook's face increased in anxiety. She looked behind them, but she couldn't see anything save the folded up rear of the car. "Wait, it can't be him. He'd have killed us by now, wouldn't he?"

"The only reason he hasn't is because he doesn't have a good target. So instead he's waiting for someone to step out of the car. He'll kill the person who does."

The woman went a bit wide-eyed at that before gulping. "Er…um… Well, what happens if we both get out at the same time?"

"He'll kill the first thing he sees with blond hair, or both of us if we can't get to cover soon enough." The woman sighed. "I may not be in the best shape, but we can't run anymore. I have to take him down or we'll never escape this building, let alone Berlin. But in my current condition, the only chance I have is if I get on even footing with him. And currently he has us where he wants us."

"So, how do we get out of this?"

Millia glanced to Jam, and saw the cook's expression immediately turned tense. She had to have guessed what the Russian was thinking before she even finished saying that question. The most clear course of action would be to use the only available person left for a target as bait long enough for her to run to cover and work her way up to Venom. That person would be as good as dead, however, and both of them knew it.

"Um…look, if you're suggesting-"

"No…at least, not exactly." The woman cut off. "But you should realize we're not only both in a deadly situation but that Venom isn't going to wait forever up there for the police to find out what happened to us. We're as good as dead sitting here as we are breaking for it."

"So what do we do?" Her look turned more uncomfortable. "And…what do you mean by 'not exactly'?"

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	23. Danse Macabre

**"** **Danse Macabre"**

* * *

Chipp reached the man in an instant, swinging his blade arm forward in a horizontal slash. The nature of a ninja in face-to-face combat was the same as it was in their primary technique: feint and strike harder and more severely than the opponent anticipated. What he planned to do was inflect his wrist during the swing, making his own blade go deeper and into his opponent.

No such luck. Quite the opposite, in fact. Rather than do anything elaborate, the Japanese man planted his feet and fully expanded his fans before him. They were so large they easily covered his entire torso and upper legs, but Chipp soon found they were better than any armored shield in spite of only looking like they were made of metal foil. On striking them with his sword, he actually felt a rather numbing jolt from the power of his impact _directed back at him_. While he was the one who struck the physical blow, it was his opponent who stood his ground while he was forced back and stunned.

 _Hell, no wonder even Sol didn't take this guy out that fast…_

Even more stunning was how fast his opponent recovered. He treated the entire thing as a fluid gesture, spreading out his fans, intercepting the blow, and then bringing the same fans up and around over his shoulders. The one in his left hand collapsed as it went up and then lashed out in a horizontal swipe for Chipp's neck. The ninja had seen that thing cut a pipe not long ago and realized, correctly, he couldn't afford to let it tag him. Quickly, he sprung backward, hearing the fan whistle through the air as it sliced in front of him, before launching himself back at the Japanese man with a double forward mid-air kick aimed for his face and neck.

To his surprise, the man was still on top of him. Continuing to move fluidly, he sidestepped the blows and pivoted his body, letting the ninja shoot right by him. Worse than that, he quickly brought up the other fan and readied a slash at the back of his passing body. Quickly, Chipp reoriented himself to bring up his blade arm and cross it along his back. Again, he felt a rather (surprisingly) stunning impact as his blade made contact, to the tune of a flash of sparks. As he used the impact to throw himself into a forward roll, he was surprised again how such a light impact actually produced metal shavings.

The Japanese man continued to turn to keep up with the ninja, but Chipp halted first, quickly swinging his leg out in a sweep for his legs as soon as he came out of his roll. He answered by quickly hopping upward to evade it, but the man applied his own speed to quickly spring back up to his feet shortly after doing so, then used his own momentum to come forward and lash out with a side kick. He hoped with the Japanese man still settling from his jump that he could use his lack of balance against him. Yet that hope was soon dashed. His foot made contact with one fan that his opponent spread out as a shield before him while he was still settling from being in midair, and Chipp was the one who was knocked off balance rather than him.

Gritting his teeth in frustration at this, the ninja quickly planted his foot before he could be knocked too far and launched himself back at the Japanese man again, this time trying to slash out for his head. Yet not only did his opponent manage to lift the fan slightly to intercept it, but, once again, he lost no footing. The impact was transferred entirely back to Chipp, making him more off balance than ever.

This time it cost him.

Bringing the shield fan down, his opponent lunged forward with the collapsed accessory in a stabbing motion; right for Chipp's chest. The ninja had done countless drills in the past for how to dodge a stabbing weapon at point-blank range, but by now, being so disorientated and off balance, Chipp wasn't able to dodge it properly in spite of all that as well as the fact that this was a fan, not a knife.

A flash of pain later signified to him that he had better start thinking of it as a deadly blade, though. His chest swung to one side to keep from getting impaled, but even the blunt tip of the fan cut right through his clothes and slashed a cut across his torso. His face contorted. Not only was it sharp, it felt like it burned…

Luckily, the pain sharpened his focus a moment later because the Japanese man didn't stop there. He thrust repeatedly at Chipp, stabbing for multiple different locations as he advanced on the still-unbalanced warrior. The man may not have had the focus and technique of a properly-trained warrior, but his hits were still more than enough to be precise. Chipp had to rapidly backpedal and raise his blade to deflect the sudden onslaught. He managed to dodge most of them, but one still made contact with his sword. He felt his arm painfully wrenched as a result, in spite of the blow looking rather light, and his sword once again cast off sparks. And he still missed one last one aimed again for his chest. This time, he felt another sting of pain as the tip of it stabbed into his rib cage. It only went in about a centimeter, but, again to his shock, the tip of the fan alone might as well have been a razor-sharp knife.

The Japanese man didn't stop there. Quickly, he began to step forward, his gait going into wide, elaborate steps as he performed wide gestures with both fans at once, alternating between collapsing them and fanning them out. He realized he had to have Chipp pushed back, and now was pressing his advantage. The ninja, again to his own surprise, found he could do little except block the incoming hits as best he could while being forced back…or, more preferably, dodge them all together as each blow he intercepted jarred his arm almost to the spraining point. His opponent might not have been as outright brutal as Testament, but he realized that his body was at least conditioned well for focus and fluidity of movement. What he lacked in combat skill he made up for with his weapons having a wide reach and spread, not to mention whatever they were made out of seemed to act as a shock absorber, so there was no way to disarm him or win through knocking him off balance.

Chipp's foot caught on something, making him stumble a moment. Quickly, he overcompensated and pushed himself further back, just narrowly missing the Japanese man tagging him with his latest sweeping move. He grit his teeth as he realized an added problem of being in a room crowded with construction equipment and materials was there wasn't a lot of room to maneuver. However, he also noticed that his opponent didn't seize his advantage like he should have. He seemed to think more like a dancer rather than a fighter. If that was the case, the ninja realized there might be a way to seize on that.

Sure enough, it came soon after. The Japanese man was making huge, sweeping moves that were mostly designed to keep Chipp at bay, obviously because his body was neither conditioned nor accustomed enough to more close-quarters combat or pain. As a result, Chipp stopped trying to intercept or look for an opening. Instead, he pulled himself further back, slowly drawing out his opponent to swing farther and wider as he advanced, trying to keep him from having room to move in.

Then it happened.

The moment the Japanese man overextended himself and the fan went too wide on one swipe, the ninja darted forward and aimed out a single powerful thrust kick for his exposed flank beneath the rib cage. A moment later, his precise strike not only hit the mark, but gave a snap to go with it.

The previous cooler and more "intrigued" air on the man's face abated as his eyes widened in sharp pain, no doubt from feeling his lowest rib snapped hard enough to rear back into his kidneys. Chipp actually smiled at the look. Ninja, after all, didn't go for beating one down with numerous overpowering strikes, but hitting them the one or two times they needed for it to count. And in his pain, his opponent lowered his fans. Quickly Chipp advanced again, this time bringing his blade around and aiming right for his opponent's neck.

Eyes widening in sudden shock, the Japanese man wildly flung up one of his fans as best as he could. If they had been normal weapons, Chipp would have deflected this weak blow easily and went on to bury his sword through his flesh. As it was, even a light blow was enough to make Chipp's sword glance off, but he had planned on that. Even as his blade once again sparked and flew aside, his opposite arm came forward and swung out a powerful iron palm right for the man's face. He wasn't at the proper angle to make it a killing blow, but he still felt another satisfying crunch as it smashed his nose, causing two streams of blood to gush out. The sheer power knocked the dancer back, beginning to make him fall.

The ninja took a second to regain his footing after being knocked aside, then brandished his blade in front of him again, darting in for what he hoped was the last blow. The dancer, losing his balance even with his musculature and poise, did another panic move in an attempt to stop him, but it was weak this time: simply swinging his fan down at Chipp.

Or so it should have been.

The charging ninja got only the briefest detection of a sudden increase in magical power in the area, before he had a split second to see the air coming off of the fan actually condensing and beginning to glow, forming what looked like a small glistening dove out of some sort of condensed energy. Chipp had only a second to wonder how the Japanese man had suddenly gained the power to gather magical energy when the small "animal" took off like a shot and pounded into his abdomen.

Chipp's pupils shrunk into pinpricks as the air was forcefully ejected from his lungs, before he himself was thrown violently backward. It felt as if a pitching machine loaded with iron balls had suddenly been fired at his gut. He was thrown into further pain a moment later when he crashed into a table with a compound miter for cutting 2 by 4s; hard enough to smash it partially before he crumpled against it.

Gritting his teeth even harder, the ninja grunted and rose again, but he knew what brief physical advantage he had over his opponent was now gone. He felt queasy already, and he knew his insides had just been bruised by that. No bones protecting his innards. As for the Japanese man, his own stamina showed itself off as he forced himself up, barely heeding his bleeding nose anymore. Instead, he just held up his fans and looked them over. His eyes were widened.

"Amazing… Even someone who has no experience with formal magic can pull it off with these…"

Chipp hissed mentally. _He didn't even know he could do that? Great… How many more surprises is he going to pull out? This is taking longer than I thought… I still have to reset those bombs…_

The Japanese man only held a bit longer, looking over his fans, before his gaze went back to Chipp. Seeing him now at a distance, he cracked half a smile before he immediately whipped out both weapons and began to fan furiously in his direction-each one launching out another one of those wind-and-energy birds like bullets at him.

Chipp groaned mentally as he quickly began to dodge each incoming shot. Not easy as they seemed to gain speed as they traveled, and each one was still deadly. One annihilated a leg on the table behind him. Another obliterated the miter saw itself, spilling out the gears and blade. Quick reflexes were part and parcel for a ninja, but each move he made was driving his guts into agony. He couldn't keep this up for long, and now it'd be harder than ever to get close to him…

Then he got an idea. As the man reared back to try and fling another one of those wind blasts at him, the ninja lashed out with his free hand and snatched up one of the gears. A second later, he snapped it out like a shuriken for his opponent's head. The impromptu move worked. He quickly swept his fan up instead and guarded his face, breaking off his other move. Chipp realized when it came to guarding he was still a novice, especially with this magic. He was too inexperienced with it to attack and block at the same time. Quickly, he snatched up another gear and flung it out for his wrist, hoping to knock one of the fans out of his hands.

He wasn't as lucky this time. He might have not been able to attack and block at the same time, but he _could_ block, and one of the fans shifted over to cover the arm and stop the hit. But both arms were caught for a moment, and Chipp used that to whirl around and lash out with one leg; shattering the rest of the bench and sending wooden fragments both from lumber and the table itself into the air. Inhaling for the technique, his leg reared back and kicked three of them out of mid-air, turning them into missiles aiming right for the Japanese man. Quickly he swung his fans up to stop each one, and the ninja realized he was making a mistake. He could safely take some of those wooden bits without worry, but he was wasting his time stopping them, not recognizing weak hits and letting his senses get addled.

With that, Chipp lashed out and snatched up the saw blade next. Taking aim at one of his ankles with the intention of lopping the foot off of his body, he let it fly like a razor disc.

In spite of his erratic moves, his opponent realized this last projectile was the deadliest, and both fans went down to block the leg. The saw blade literally shattered against the fans on contact, but the deed had been done. Chipp had made him go so wild he put both fans down. As a result, he left himself wide open as the ninja dashed forward, leapt up, and gave him a smashing kick to the face over his already broken nose.

The man had to have _some_ sort of background in physical movement, because that hit had been meant to drop him or shove his nasal bones deep into his skull, yet other than staggering backward, nearly stumbling over his own two feet, and looking to be both dazed and in pain, the man was still able to stand. However, Chipp had felt his hit went deep that time. Even if he evaded enough to avoid being killed, he wasn't shaking that one off. What more, he was so dazed his fans hung limp at his sides. That was his chance. Sweeping his blade down to ready for a deep stroke, he charged forward to hopefully end the fight with his next hit.

But as addled as his opponent's head had to be, it still wasn't completely senseless. He had been knocked clear back into a pneumatic tank for pressurized air tools. As Chipp neared, he got enough of his bearings to raise a fan and swing it down against the side of it, piercing into the metal…

Moments from being close enough to make contact, the ninja was halted as the tank diagonal to him erupted, sending a burst of icy-cold depressurizing air right in his eyes and launching a piece of snapped-off shrapnel from the tank at his shoulder. The man halted, slamming his eyes shut and crying in agony, but not just from the icy burn in his eyes. The piece of shrapnel had shot out and impacted him right in his nearest shoulder in just the right way at just the right power to jerk it to one side. To the sensation of sharp agony, his limb had been dislocated.

Blinded and stunned, Chipp struggled to compensate, but was too late to do anything before the ends of both fans, collapsed together and swung at the same time, came around and smacked him against the side of his head.

Being a higher-level magic meant that one could take a lot of heavy hits. And after what happened in England, Chipp had been trying to focus on making his body more durable to pain and damage in spite of the fact that, as a ninja, he should ideally evade everything and strike once only. Yet not wishing to be dropped with one blow in the future, he had worked on that aspect as well. Yet all it did was keep him from going down all together as the world nearly went to black. He was knocked practically senseless for the second time in a year as he felt the intense pain of the fans slamming into him. He not only sported a pair of bar-like bruises against the side of his head now that had gone deep enough for blood to ooze out to the surface, but they looked almost singed as if he had been hit by irons. Luckily, he had been dazzled so much from the blow he barely noticed the force of his body smashing through the drywall of the room he had been.

The ninja's wits came back just in time for him to hit the ground, only to find it steely and cold, and also full of open space on either end. Just enough of his technique came back to him to allow him to somersault backward and weakly put his legs out to try and halt himself, only to stumble as one leg hit nothing but air. Suddenly, his balance failed, and before he knew it he found himself spilling to one side. Shocked, out of sheer instinct he reached out around him, and as he fell his good remaining arm grasped what felt like a metal girder. Only there did he catch his breath a moment and gaze about at what had happened to him.

He realized he was in a new chamber. The impact had knocked him clean through the wall in the previous room, and now he was in an area that was mostly unfinished. It was mostly just steel girders in here, of which Chipp had landed on one and was now suspended from. He had been lucky. If he had gone either left or right he might have fallen an additional few stories and snapped his spine. The only flat surface here was some gangplanks laid out to hold on to some spare plastering material and to provide a path to the construction garbage chute to one side.

Letting out a grunt and a moan, Chipp looked above him. Between the injuries he had sustained, his dizziness, and his own failing stamina, he was barely holding on with the one arm. His other one was nearly useless. He looked to it a moment, staring at the dislocated limb, and slowly he made a grimace. Tsuyoshi had taught him how to deal with something like this. He even forcefully made him practice once, and Chipp couldn't recall what was more agonizing: putting it back or the process Tsuyoshi performed on him to put it out. He actually trembled a bit at the thought of the incoming pain, but in the end grit his teeth.

 _I don't know pain or fear. I don't know pain or fear. I don't know pain or fear._

Chanting this to himself, he tightened his one arm enough to fling his other arm up and over the girder for bracing, then yanked his feet up to position themselves in the groove of the girder. After inhaling and exhaling sharply twice, he bent his whole body down and threw the weight on the limb, and with a mighty wet pop, he shoved the shoulder back into its joint.

Chipp couldn't hold it. He screamed in pain and nearly lost his grip to fall regardless. With all the wits he could muster, he threw himself on top of the girder and gasped. His eyes were wide, sweat was pouring down his brow, and he felt he might black out from the pain…

A sound of metal clanging shook him out of it, however. He turned his head and looked, and his eyes widened a bit more.

What he had heard was his opponent leaping through the hole Chipp's body had made and landing on the girder. Now, both fans unfurled again, he was rapidly moving across right for him, getting both weapons ready. The ninja nearly gaped as he forced himself back up to his feet and his blade across just as the first blow came down.

The power was nearly too much for Chipp. He lost his footing again, letting one leg slide to one side, and nearly stumbling into a collapse. The only reason he wasn't finished by the next hit was the Japanese man was slower now. He panted as well as he brought his other fan back up and swung it down at him. Just barely, Chipp managed to yank his leg up and backstep, although he wobbled and his equilibrium shifted greatly. He again barely pulled off a deflection from his opponent swinging the fan at him horizontally a moment later.

Soon he was being forced back by repeated blows, barely able to withstand them. His blade arm, mercifully, was not the one that had been dislocated. But he had taken too many blows and his natural balance and breathing techniques were askew, putting him at a much greater disadvantage on the girder. While his opponent was definitely slower and weaker both from lack of experience was well as taking hits, his own balance was still impeccable. And he didn't need to put extra power into his blows when his fans had all the power he needed already. Each one repelled Chipp violently, and each one sent a rather sharp vibration through his weapon. He knew he couldn't hold him much longer like this. He was backing him up against a girder, but he didn't think he'd be able to keep his balance until they got there.

 _I don't need an out. If his footing is better, he'll be on me in a second. My blade feels like it's going to snap any second now, and then it won't matter if I keep my balance or not. His reach is too wide. If he had only one fan, then_ maybe _…but he has two and between the two of them there's no way I can get a hit in. I got to disarm him somehow, but how?_

Chipp knew the answer. He had to stop thinking of this in terms of straight battle skill and think like an assassin. Think like a _ninja_. Not only anticipate your opponent's moves, but strike them in their most glaring weakness. And if one wouldn't present itself normally, then he had to find a way to make one. On thinking that, he noticed some things. The platform was in jumping distance, although he was sure the Japanese man would be on his heels. There was some plaster compound waiting to be mixed over there. His blade was about to break. The eyes of his opponent focused hard behind his glasses, mottled with sweat and a touch of blood.

 _That's it._

It would be a reckless gamble, but it would also leave him open. Or so he hoped.

His opponent raised his fan high, meaning to batter it down on the blade yet again. His sword was ready to snap as it was, but if he aimed for more deflection he realized he could guard another three or four strikes. Yet rather than shift his good arm to allow for that, Chipp did just the opposite. He actually turned his blade upward to meet with the incoming fan, angling it to take the brunt of the force instead. A moment later, and the fan came down and neatly sheared off the end of the sword all together, snapping it clear.

Just as Chipp hoped, his opponent hesitated. He hadn't expected Chipp to make a move that would have broke his weapon early, and the ninja used the moment to open his mouth wide as the piece of blade flew through the air, then caught it in his teeth. Immediately afterward, he made his move and leapt off of the girder for the wooden support slats to one side. It wasn't the neatest jump in the world, but it made good use of the Japanese man's distraction. He landed in a quasi-tumble a moment later, but quickly spun himself forward in a sideways somersault, shooting him away from the girder he had left and toward the plaster compound.

The man with the fans didn't stay stunned any longer. Realizing the ninja had used the chance to escape, he quickly tried to seize on Chipp's bad landing and leapt over after him. His own vault was far easier and neater than the ninja's, and he was soon rushing on him from behind to strike while his back was turned. But before he could, Chipp reached the plaster compound, seized one of the half-open bags with his good arm, then snapped around and lobbed it at the Japanese man's head. As he had everything else, he raised his fan to block as he kept on coming, expecting to barrel right through.

Yet he had made another mistake. The bag immediately burst on impact against the fan, and sent out a cloud of thick, white, and abrasive powder around his face. There was a chance he could have run right through it under normal conditions, but he had sweat and blood running both over his glasses but around his eyes. The compound stuck and immediately formed an opaque, clay-like layer, blocking out his glasses and stinging his pupils. Crying out in sudden pain, the man hesitated, raising a hand carrying one of the fans for his face.

All the opening Chipp needed.

The Japanese man may have been good at keeping a grip on the fans normally in battle, but when something went for his vision he instinctively brought his hands up. Using that moment, Chipp let go of his blade piece and let the metal fall into his other hand, before lashing out with the blade tip and driving it forward, piercing him right in the middle of the Japanese man's exposed appendage and driving the blade all the way though.

Now his opponent really did cry out, screaming in pain as blood gushed from his pierced palm, and his grip fumbled. The golden luster of the fan was tarnished by vermillion fluid before it fell out of his hand all together, clattering and tumbling to a space between the wooden slats, then falling through all together. The Japanese man couldn't even force his eyes open to realize he had just lost one of his weapons. Instead, he did the only thing he could and tried to swing the other weapon out for Chipp's head.

The ninja expected this. He quickly ducked, letting the fan edge sail over his skull, before he shot up to his feet and lunged. His good arm seized his limb and, through considerable agony, he forced his other one up as well to seize that now outstretched limb at the palm and wrist joint and performed a quick slapping move. Too agonized to stop it, his grip involuntarily loosened, and the fan went flying out of his hand and toward the edge of the slats to join its mate.

The man reached his bloody hand out for it, and Chipp had the idea, somehow, these weapons might actually return to him from that gesture. But he didn't give him the opportunity. His good arm still holding his good limb, he suddenly yanked it to one side, then stood, elevated a leg, and brought it over to lash around the limb. Giving a mighty twist from both of his appendages, he wrung the limb the wrong way and soon caused another wet pop to ring through the air, this time as he dislocated the man's elbow. The Japanese man's remaining focus to fight eroded as his body was thrown in fresh pain. He screamed again, but was silenced as Chipp's palm shot out and drove itself into his throat. His cry was turned into a violent gag before he started to stumble backward, reaching his still impaled hand for his own neck. Blood in his mouth mingled with that coming from his nose.

And with his body fully open, Chipp shifted his feet out, brandished his own broken blade, and lunged at his chest. A moment later, the weapon swung around and sliced into it.

A great red slash was opened, and he gagged again as blood erupted from the wound. The cast-off power knocked him back, taking him back a foot and a half before releasing him. Beneath his clay-stained lenses, his eyes widened in shock. Blood dribbled from his lips as the force caused him to weakly stumble back to the rest of the way to the edge of the slats and the garbage chute. Giving only a few weak noises, he finally collapsed at the edge and fell back into it. The last Chipp saw of him was as his glasses fell away, exposing his wide-open eyes before he slid down the tunnel and out of sight.

Chipp took a moment to gasp. He was still dizzy and half of his head burned with pain. That last hit had been rough. If he had his blade intact, he could have ended this as a proper ninja and forced all of his power into the cut. His opponent would have been left standing right where he was for a moment before blood would have started to gush out of his body. But this one had not only been more shallow and rougher than Chipp wanted, but the power he forced himself to put into it had acted as a blow to knock him backward. He even caught a bit of his arm on that one. To be honest, Chipp didn't even know if he had gone that deep with the slice. There was a good chance he was still alive and had been more shocked from thinking he had been fatally sliced.

He was certain about one thing, though. The hit had gone deep enough to incapacitate him. One of his hands was useless for now and between the new slash and the beating he had taken, he wasn't going to be up again.

That was good enough for him. His formerly dislocated shoulder was in agony now, and he reached his good arm over to brace it and try and keep it from moving as he stumbled back over the slats for the opening he had made. He had to get to the bombs and rearm them, and hopefully do that before they started going off.

He looked to his wrist to try and check the time, only to suddenly feel the entire structure he was on give such a violent shake that the slats beneath him were completely disengaged and sent falling as well. It was only due to his instincts that he immediately jumped for the girder they were braced on, but even then he lost his footing again and fell down against the metal bracer. After that, he quickly spread out his hands and legs and braced himself before he could be thrown off of the metal and down the same way the fans had gone, because the structure continued to vibrate, giving off a groan like the world's largest tuning fork.

Up above him, he heard a rather monstrous sound that seemed halfway between wind and halfway between an animal roar.

Pupils shrinking into pinpricks, he looked up overhead, knowing who was up there and what had to have begun…

* * *

 _Where are you, you little bitch…_

Venom always knew that he was a better wheelman than Millia, especially in adverse conditions. He had been from a district that had a lot more motorized vehicles growing up, after all, and that was how he made himself useful to the syndicate before he mastered his technique. And through a combination of his own driving and luck, he had managed to get her right where he wanted her. He couldn't have asked for better than this basement and weather. She was now stuck beneath her with nowhere to go except in the path of the billiard ball even now he was hovering on the tip of his cue, ready to strike at a moment's notice. The cops were no doubt looking for him, but thanks to that surge in snow outside, it would take them a while to find where he had run off too.

The car had been quiet for a while, but he knew Millia had to have survived something like that. He further knew she wouldn't just hang around inside that vehicle waiting for the police to arrive. She knew they couldn't stop him, and even if they could they'd be after her as much as him. She would break for it first. All he needed was one good shot. One hit to flatten her skull before she had a chance to bring up her hair…

 _Come on out… Come on out…_

Finally, it happened. The driver's side window burst out, and a blond-haired woman shot out from the opening in the best dive she could make in such cramped corners. But as fast as the move was, even if Venom hadn't been a professional it would have been too slow for an escape. He immediately drew a bead on the blond hair and let a cue ball fly.

The ball reached its target, and with a resounding crack blond hair splattered and went everywhere. Yet Venom's ears immediately picked up the sound of the crack: metallic, and followed by a younger voice crying out in alarm. He realized a moment later he hadn't hit her head at all, but rather a dummy. Her hair wrapped around a riot helmet. Obviously knowing he'd hit the first blond-haired thing that came out without having the luxury of wondering if it was the genuine article. The limbs he now saw flailing around, he realized, weren't gloved like hers.

 _That other one she drug along. Well, no matter. She's still too pinned to be able to get away…_

Only when this thought hit Venom's head did he realize his mistake. Rage wouldn't have made such a rookie maneuver. She was trying something else. And before he could realize what, he got his answer as the back of the vehicle's twisted trunk suddenly popped open the rest of the way, and a tendril of hair like a lance shot right for his location.

Venom had no choice but to backpedal or risk his cue being broken or part of him being impaled on that hair. As soon as he recoiled, however, the hair lost its tip and flattened out, instead seizing a girder where he had been. He tried to ready his cue to react, but was too late yet again as the hair shortened, and Millia Rage, bloody, bruised, and yet as fierce as any injured predator might have looked, was yanked out of the trunk, through the hole in the floor, and up to Venom's level. By the time Venom had a new ball out, her feet were planted. By the time he hit it, Millia's hair had loosened its purchase and swung around as a shield, stopping the ball cold before it could hit her. Immediately, it threw it off to one side down the same hole, keeping him from using it again.

As the hair retracted to become Millia's normal "fighting ponytail", her eyes were exposed again and burning a glare into Venom.

Beneath his own eye-dyed hair, the assassin hissed. With a sharp whistle, his cue rotated around and readied itself at his side. Behind them, the only sound in the area rang out; namely the other one in the car grunting as she struggled to pull herself free.

"I should have known you wouldn't make this easy, you Russian bitch."

"Truly a pity you'll have to fight me on even ground. Especially since you're no Zato-1."

The mention of the name made Venom bristle. "So _now_ you speak of him with a measure of respect. He was the only man in the world who I ever truly, deeply loved, Rage. Not something I would expect _you_ to understand. You never loved anything. You talked about him as if he was just a serial killer, but there were things in this world he loved. Things he admired. What do you love? Or, perhaps more appropriately, _who_ loves _you?_ "

The Russian seemed to bristle at this; her immortally stoic manner actually showing a bit of a change.

"Nobody, that's who. Of course they don't. It doesn't matter how sexy you are or how smooth your pretty little skin is even after all these years. Guys only need to take one look at you and they know what you are. They can see it in your eyes. You could practically scare cats out of a tree with that stare of yours." He voice was as biting and cruel as he could make it. He wanted to make her hurt. He wanted her to feel the pain she had given him. "We gave you the only life you were ever any good at and then you stab us in the back.

"Well, Ms. White Russian, I'm going to enjoy beating you to death and breaking each and every bone in your body. And once I'm done I'm going to carve you up so bad that I'll hear _him_ applauding me for doing such a good job. And after that, I'm going to tattoo his name into every square inch of your unspoiled skin that's left and wave it like a f***ing flag over the Spanish syndicate branch."

"That's why you were always pathetic at this job, Venom." Millia simply answered. "You always focused so much on details you could never do the most important part: making the kill to begin with."

The tanned skin of the assassin turned a shade red as his grip tightened on the cue. Giving a violent hiss, he began the attack.

* * *

Inspector Stein tore the binoculars away and smashed them angrily against the metal railing, not really caring that he broke them in the process. A fat lot of good they were doing him now when all he could see was thick, billowing snowflakes obscuring all but an outline of the skyline. It wasn't enough that they were looking at a Gear attack and facing opposition from the nation's military. Now someone had sabotaged the city's power grid. Coupled with this winter storm, they were effectively blind and down just to short range radios. And there was so much chaos going on at the moment that there was no way to know what was happening. Rioting in the theater, reports of an attempt on the president, a different gear sighting, police car theft and chasing… What else could go wrong?

Gritting his teeth, he pressed the call button for channel four again and put the radio to his mouth. "How much longer until that system reset processes?"

 _"_ _Still seven more minutes, sir!"_

He struggled not to swear as he switched to channel three. "Are we completely senseless out here? What's left?"

 _"_ _Just the spammers, sir!"_

"Well, have they got anything?"

 _"_ _We picked up Captain Ky Kiske's signature passing through the southern checkpoint!"_

Stein went silent. So he had come after all after vanishing the other day. Was he really disobeying orders? If he was, the man wasn't sure if he should be furious or relieved.

 _"_ _Wait…wait…"_ The radio came back, getting his attention again. _"Sir, the spammers are having a reaction. One of them just got a nose bleed. There's a massive power spike toward the center of Tiergarten. It has to be the primary target."_

Stein stiffened. He forgot about the bulk of the chaos on hearing that. "Which way is Captain Kiske going?"

 _"_ _Based on last signature, right for it."_

Immediately, Stein switched channels to one. "Eastern Checkpoint, come in!"

Nothing but static came through. This sent a chill through the officer. He knew it wasn't due to interference. That channel had been loud and clear five minutes ago. Something else had happened.

He couldn't worry about that now. Quickly, he changed channels again. "Western Checkpoint, come in!"

 _"_ _We read you, sir!"_

"Start making your way to Tiergarten Square! Head straight through to the south and see if you can intercept Captain Kiske before he gets in! The German army made it clear they're the only ones they want handling the strike on the Gear and we need to keep crowd control on civilians!"

A moment of silence resulted on the other end.

 _"…_ _Did you say south, sir?"_

Stein frowned. He was quibbling over this? "Yes, south! The spammers at the southern checkpoint caught him going through!"

 _"_ _That's…impossible, sir."_

The man groaned. "Why is that, lieutenant?"

 _"_ _We just spotted Captain Kiske running through our checkpoint not 90 seconds ago, sir."_

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	24. Burying the Hatchet

**"** **Burying the Hatchet"**

* * *

Millia had time to think so she quickly assessed the situation. Venom looked mostly fresh, which meant she could consider the fact she would safely have to fight him at full power. That wouldn't be easy even if she was at full strength. One of her arms had a broken hand so it would only be good for blocking. The other was more intact but it was the one that had been stabbed and had lingering weakness. It was safe to say her arms wouldn't be the deciding factor in this. Not much better with her legs. She had been bedridden too long and wasn't nearly as nimble as her opponent, whose primary edge was in his speed. That left just her hair. Normally that would be more than enough, but Venom knew how she fought and, more importantly, knew that she lost fine control after about eight feet. She had managed to make him recoil with that one long stab before, but that was a freebie. If he had the presence of mind to counter, she would have been wide open for it.

She could still win this, she felt. But if she made one or two careless mistakes it could easily go to Venom. However, she felt she had one advantage besides her hair that he didn't.

The sounds of scrambling below were still ringing out; obviously Jam trying to get free. Millia raised her head slightly, her eyes going to the edge of the dropoff.

"Do what I told you." She shouted down. "Get out of here and don't look back."

"Never took you for the 'motherly' type, Rage." Venom sneered back, smirking a little underneath his own hair.

Millia didn't answer. Instead, she snapped her head around and lashed out, instantly morphing her ponytail into a bludgeoning hair pseudopod.

Venom answered by snapping back, letting the hair lock knock out a dash of concrete from where he stood. He had been more than ready for that. He had purposely let her make the first move so he could get distance, knowing between the two of them only he could effectively attack from range. He answered by flipping his cue around and giving a flourish of one arm. Three cue balls immediately rolled out and along the stick easily before reaching the tip, before he hit out each one at her one after the other.

His balance and ball tricks weren't just for flair. He knew what he was doing as he aimed the balls at her kneecaps. He knew full well with her looking at him he couldn't hope to disable her hair, but her only real weakness would be if he got in close and managed to attack her body. So he was trying to cripple her and leave her that much more vulnerable. Quickly, her hair lashed out with simple moves of her neck, as she struck aside each shot…

Yet when her hair went to knock away the third, to her surprise she found Venom had launched himself into the air and right at her in a vaulting lunge. Her eyes widened. She didn't realize he had practiced enough to leap that far, but she quickly focused more on his incoming cue for her head. He could drive the end of that weapon through a man's sternum. Her skull would be no problem. Immediately, her hair whipped up and swung to one side, batting it away…

But she had reacted too slow and out of surprise. She swung the cue away from her body rather than crossing it in front of her to block a follow-up blow. As a result, Venom twisted his body as he came down and swung out one of his heels, smashing it across the side of her head.

Crying out in pain, the Russian staggered back. Venom quickly planted his feet and raised his cue; swirling it around to try and beat her in the skull again, but she was one step faster and quickly rolled with the hit, swinging her body around as she condensed her hair into a scythe blade and lashed out for him. Quickly, he ducked and sidestepped to avoid the hit, but it wasn't enough to force him back all together. As soon as Millia was facing him again, he quickly choked up on his cue and advanced on her, driving it out for her side.

Gritting her teeth, Millia swung her hair in front of her and solidified it again to drive it off, but Venom followed by leaping at her yet again from short range, once again showing his prowess as his body sailed up to where his ankles were practically at her head level before he drove the end of his cue for her skull again. In spite of her intent to hold her ground against him, Millia had to backpedal in order to swing out her hair to block it. He drove again for her chest on the way down, and she had to deflect that one as well to avoid impalement. After that, she struggled to drive a hit forward, hoping to abort his assault, but he responded by quickly swinging his cue around in a tight spiral; spinning so fast one would think it impossible. Her hair didn't have time to focus and was snapped away, before he swung the end of his cue out for her head yet again where he had landed his first blow. Millia was forced to take another step back.

He had definitely been preparing for this. While up close she was vulnerable, the closer an opponent got to Millia the more dangerous it was for them. So he was countering by attacking her so fast she didn't get a chance to respond. It was not only doing well at keeping her at bay, but it was also forcing her back. Trying to think of a more effective way out of this, Millia again lashed out, this time morphing her hair into a spike aimed for Venom's skull. But the assassin had anticipated this too and the move was so sloppy that he saw it telegraphed. As soon as he swung his head out of the way, he countered by driving his cue forward in another thrust for her head.

The counter was so quick that in addition to swinging her hair around to bat it aside, she instinctively raised her arm with the busted hand to try and put it away. She screamed at herself mentally a heartbeat later as she realized he had wanted that. He aborted his own strike early and choked up on the cue, swinging it around and rapping the end of it hard on her already broken hand.

The Russian's teeth tightened as her eyes slammed shut, feeling the intense pain flooding her knuckles. Yet that was nothing compared to a moment later when Venom choked up with his other hand and swung the end of his cue out like a bat, catching her under the chin and sending bone-jarring pain through her skull.

Millia's head snapped up like a ball on a stick. She felt her jaw crack under the power of that hit. She was knocked senseless, and as her legs began to feel like water she spilled backward. Venom quickly replaced his traditional grip on his cue and leapt again, meaning to stab her through the chest.

But the Russian had tricks Venom had never seen too. As she was about to fall flat and be in perfect position for the dive, her hair suddenly split, enlarged, and flooded behind her, spreading out into multiple curved branches that acted as a springboard. Far from just catching her, they launched her back up into a stance. Beneath his hair, Venom's own eyes widened as he was helpless to stop his descent; only able to stare as Millia sprung back and let him fall, before dashing forward and bringing her own knee up into his face. A meaty smack rang out as his head and upper body was knocked upward, before she brought her opposite arm up, flexed it, and smashed the elbow into his head to knock him back further. Quickly her hair came around, reformed the scythe, and snapped about…

But it was too late. Venom quickly sprung back and leapt, sending himself high and clear of the attack. Millia's teeth grit in anger. She had saved herself with that move, but she had also incapacitated her hair for the moment Venom needed to make it worth nothing. She had hoped the lighter blows from her knee and elbow would have stunned him long enough to get ready for a follow-up hit, but no such luck.

The assassin didn't take long to set up his next attack. His cue began to swirl around in a rapid circle again, becoming nearly disk-like as he advanced on her once more. She didn't bother lashing out with her hair directly this time. She knew he'd deflect it and counter again. Quickly, she thickened her mane, then brought it up and around in a more powerful motion, catching the cue and managing to block it and swing it to one side. Venom's arms were wrenched in one direction, and she advanced with her good hand and hooked it around into his side.

She nearly cursed yet again. He must have guessed by now her limbs were weakened, and so he purposely sacrificed that side of his body to tie up her arm. Although she aimed for his kidney, he barely reacted to her punch, and she was once again side open for him to snap his cue around and drive the middle of the shaft of it into her face across the bridge of her nose. The smacking pain dazzled her already swimming head and made her recoil again in spite of her best effort, giving Venom enough room to swing his cue around and aim another thrust. A moment later, he drove the tip forward for her chest, again for a fatal hit. The Russian was so dazzled all she could do was shift her body, but that was too little too late. The cue still shot forward and pierced her right in her blouse, dipping in farther than it should have…

Millia cried out in pain, faltering and bending over, grasping for her chest as she ripped herself back. Venom grinned in delight…

…A grin that faded rapidly a moment later as Millia's hair suddenly bifurcated before both ends lashed out and clamped around his head in a vise-like grip. He barely had time to react in shock as the hair, with Millia still bent over, yanked him off of his feet and flung him away to one side. He flailed about a

moment before he impacted against one of the chamber's support girders, hitting his spine and lower ribs first. The impact was audible, and a pained gag burst from his lips before he tumbled to the ground. Even then, he continued to seethe in agony.

Millia had little time to relish her small victory. She looked down to her white blouse and saw blood was rapidly staining it. That cue had gone in between two of her ribs and pierced the skin with a dull tip, effectively stabbing her. Now she was bleeding from the chest as well. She looked up as fiercely as she could to Venom, and saw him reach out a hand for his back and side. He made further exclamations of pain as he twisted himself up, but in spite of that he still managed to spring to his feet and move both hands back to the cue. There was a chance she had bruised his ribs and spine on that one. Maybe even a hairline fracture of the former. But that would barely perceptibly slow him down, especially now since pain and anger would make his adrenaline surge.

Playing by his rules wasn't doing too well. He was expecting her to fight defensively.

In that case…

Before Venom could launch himself at her again, Millia went first and dashed toward him. He quickly shifted posture at that, bringing the cue around to act defensively, and moving a moment later to block Millia's first hair snap in his direction. She tried to put enough power into the blow to split his cue, but no such luck. That weapon looked to be made of wood but had to be magically treated. It made sense considering the weapons he encountered. Instead, she quickly planted her feet and swung her hair forward in a series of rapid jabs with the end condensed and knotted. Each one lashed out for a different joint, his head, or his neck. Quickly he brought up the cue and deflected them one by one, but it was enough to start getting him on the defensive and to make him start stepping back. Quickly, Millia pressed her advantage, swinging her head around in small circles as she advanced on him and morphing her hair back into a blade at the same time, effectively creating a cutter of her own.

The assassin put up with this for a bit, but then got the pattern. The second he did, he suddenly stepped back, brought up the cue, and drove the shaft forward for Millia's head once again. This time, however, she had hoped for that. Her arm with the busted hand came up and swung, batting the cue to one side, and she quickly moved to flip her head forward with the intent of driving a hair spike into Venom's skull. Yet to her surprise, and anger, he was too fast for that. No sooner had she blocked his cue than he suddenly did a backflip, kicking up with both legs to try and hit her at the same time. Knowing she couldn't risk any more blows to the head, Millia backpedaled herself, and in the process missed her window of opportunity. Now free from her advance, Venom had scarcely landed from the flip before he lunged again, bringing the cue up to try and smack against her once more.

She hissed mentally. _Damnit, you stupid oaf… Stop fighting him like a frightened child! You can do more than this!_

As the cue sailed for her head, Millia's jaw tightened before she suddenly dropped downward, letting the weapon sail harmlessly over her. While she was still sluggish on her leg movements, she nevertheless used her new squat position to lash out for Venom's legs. Quickly, the man leapt in the air over it, but this time he hadn't been smart enough to take the weak hit. As a result, Millia snapped her head down and up, lengthening her mane to about six feet before whipping it upward. The assassin gave an audible cry as the end of the hair smacked up, caught him under the chin, and sent his skull flying skyward-taking his body with it.

While he was still suspended in midair, the Russian shot back to her feet, swung her head around one more time, condensed the air into a club, and drove it forward into his midsection. Another audible grunt went out from him as the blow struck him hard in the stomach, sending him flying away and, as she intended, into another metal support girder. She wanted to hit him in the same place again. Bust up his back and cripple him from using any more fancy footwork.

But in her zealousness, Millia hadn't noticed that Venom wasn't as dazzled as she hoped. Even as his body went flying back, she saw too late his arms come around, grip the cue again, and roll another ball out. A moment later, it flew off for her chest around the solar plexus region, right before he smashed into the girder himself with another clang.

Venom was the one who cried out in more agony as he crumpled to the ground, but Millia wasn't much better as she felt two ribs snap and the air knocked out of her. The force ripped her backward and it was only due to knowing how to fall properly that she spread her legs out underneath her as she began to go down, ending up stopping herself in a squat. However, her eyes were wide now and her mouth was open and gagging. That blow had knocked the wind out of her. She was left immobilized and gasping, and now crippled with fresh pain. If she could have sprung back with footwork of her own before now, she couldn't anymore.

The Russian looked up and, much to her chagrin, Venom was rising again. He was doing so far more stiffly, though. Her move to have him smash into a girder and hurt his back further seemed to have worked. However, all it did was slow him now. It didn't put him down. Neither did the blood now soaking into his hair, for the end of her hair had been tapered razor-sharp in that last blow. He looked a bit dizzy, but he was rising. Millia realized if he got up before she did he'd have the advantage, and so, in spite of her own dizziness and rising nausea, she forced herself to start to get up as well. In moments, the two agonized opponents were fighting as hard as they could to rise and attack before the other had a chance.

As it turned out, both of them staggered to their feet at roughly the same time, and forced their legs to start moving so that they could charge at one another in a half-hobble. Venom didn't fire another cue ball. Rather, he swung his cue in front of him in his normal pose as he charged at her. Millia immediately thought to lash her hair out, wrap it around his weapon, yank it free, and leave him defenseless to her beating.

But she stopped herself. _That's just what he wants. He's too strong to be disarmed that easily. And once my hair is wrapped around his cue, I'll be defenseless. I have to keep my feet planted and my arms are useless, while he'll still have two intact arms to fight with._

 _Time to even the odds._

Knowing her move was borderline insanity, but also knowing her own trauma level was so high that the adrenaline was masking a great deal of her pain, Millia continued to charge forward as her ponytail went to one side, condensed the end into a club once again, and began to swing around in a circle. She noticed Venom's body hesitated for a fraction of a second, wondering what she was up to with this, but in the end continuing to charge. As before, she saw his cue go up, aiming another hit. The blow was going to go right for her head. He couldn't lunge to make it at this point due to his back injuries, but his legs still looked rather spry. When it came to advancing in a hurry, he would have the advantage. As soon as she was within ten feet, he suddenly doubled his speed, dashing forward and readying his cue for her head.

As the cue advanced, however, Millia grit her teeth and aimed her good arm upward, straight into its path. A moment later, the cue came forth and made contact with her palm, and she felt fresh pain and agony flood through her as the weapon shot forward and snapped five bones in her hand, wrist, and ulna.

A painful blow and one that threw her into more trauma than she had wanted, but a necessary one. An old trick she had learned from Lauper. That limb was useless in this fight, so she had to sacrifice it further. And the only way she could stop that cue was by making it go straight through the bone at the longest point. She wasn't sure she wouldn't pass out from the agony as soon as this was done, but it was her only shot for now. And it had not been without merit.

Immediately, the end of her hair came around and swung down as hard as it could on Venom's own humerus bone. A rather loud snap went out as it fractured clean through it and dislodged it.

As agonizing as Millia's pain was, Venom was the one who cried out in pain as he recoiled, his limb going limp at one side. That was a compound fracture and now that arm was effectively worthless. He actually cried out a second time when he mistakenly let the weight of the cue shift to this arm before he quickly took it up with his other instead. As his head snapped up to her, his hair fluttered just enough for Millia to see a mixture of rage and pain in his own eyes.

It nearly made her smile.

He had ruined her already-useless arm, but all of his own power was in his own limbs while Millia still had her hair. And she had just broken his dominant arm. That meant there was no way he could drive his cue into her anymore, and he knew it. Also no more cue balls. While Millia was quivering and sweating from her own pain at this point, Venom had to realize by now his only hope for victory was that the Russian's trauma, injuries, and stamina loss was enough at this point, because her hair didn't tire and between his back injuries and his broken arm the only thing he had left was nimble footwork and one good limb.

However, as Millia saw him blur a bit, she realized that might be more than enough. She wasn't a machine that she could take car crashes, bones smashing, and beatings to the head all day. While she had definitely put him in the danger zone as much as her, they were both nearing their limit. That was part of the reason Millia wasn't finishing this right now, and the fact that she, an expert former assassin, was hesitating had to have been picked up by him. They were both going to bet everything they had on this pretty soon.

Hissing in fresh anger as well as pain, Venom planted one end of his cue on the ground and, with trained movements, unscrewed the two halves with his good arm. After that, he took up the thicker end like an elaborate billy club and did a quick 360 degree swing before seizing it firmly. He glared at Millia afterward. The woman glared right back, putting her bloody, broken arms in front of her and dangling her ponytail in front of her face again. Both panting, both agonized, they stared at each other momentarily…

Venom was the one who moved. Vaulting forward, he did his best he could with a thrust and drove the fat end of his half-cue toward her throat, hoping to gag her. Quickly, Millia swept her hair out and batted it away with one lock, only to make that one recede and quickly bring out another; this one with a sharp tip that lashed out for Venom's eye socket. He quickly spun to one side, making use of his intact legs again, and on coming out of the spin swung his cue down for Millia's side, meaning to either break another rib or drive the broken one into her. Eyes widening and more sweat pouring down her brow, the Russian answered by lengthening her hair and making it rigid, barring his blow.

The assassin paused there, and she heard another scowl of disgust from him. He had erred, realizing too late he couldn't use his other arm to punch her there while she was exposed, and his legs planted too firmly to overwhelm her hair. As a result, the two clashed a moment, with either trying to overwhelm the other. But Millia had the edge there. Her hair had unlimited stamina so she pushed back as hard as she could, trying to wrench his own arm and hopefully leave him open.

Unfortunately, he recognized what she was doing and his own mistake, and giving out a yell he snapped his arm free, twirling around once again, before he furiously began to bat away at the top of her head. Millia stood her ground for the first blow, raising her own hair up and blocking it, but she paid a price for it. He was hitting her with all the power he could. Reckless as the move was, it was forcing her head back and, to compensate, she was putting her own torso into it and thereby agitating her ribs. While his blows weren't anything fancy, they were powerful and rapid, and she quickly had to form her hair into one knot after another to deflect each one, getting a bit dizzier and more in pain with each and unable to counter. Finally, as she continued to fling her hair over her, she risked taking a step back to warm up for a counter.

 _Sh't!_

Millia saw it even before it landed. She was so tired and sore she was letting her mind go into automatic and continued to block the incoming blows overhead, not realizing that Venom changed tactics at the last minute when she moved. He had been trying to get her to block without thinking, and as a result she hesitated as he swung the cue down in a vertical chop instead on her shoulder joint. Yet another one of her bones snapped, this time from her collarbone.

The pain onrush was so sudden that not only did Millia falter, nearly going to one knee, but her world swirled black for a moment. Luckily for her, Venom hesitated. No doubt, he wanted to ready a killing blow while she had lost her posture. When her vision cleared, she saw that he had put the club to one side. That was his weaker arm, after all. Instead, he had planted one leg on the ground and was putting his weight onto it. He was meaning to bring his other leg up in a blow strong enough to snap her neck or finish the job all the other blows to her head had started.

In response, in a move that was more than 70% panic, Millia screamed out as the front of her scalp turned into five needle-like projections of hair that exploded outward. She had meant to hit whatever she could get, not focusing anything, but by sheer luck one of the spikes went through Venom's weight-bearing foot and the other through his shin on the same leg.

Another cry of pain echoed as Venom hastily dropped his other foot back down before he lost his balance all together. Millia tried to seize the opportunity, but it was hopeless. She couldn't even push herself back up quickly at this point, and remained stuck on one knee. She couldn't even focus enough to use her hair effectively, leaving it in the wounds. As she hesitated, Venom threw his own finesse to the wind, planting his other foot, glaring at her hatefully, and raising his club-wielding arm to just split her skull instead. As it came down, Millia finally regained her focus, lashing her hair up and wrapping it around the weapon and his wrist.

There the two held. Part of Millia's hair was still embedded in Venom's leg, but all of her focus was on holding his arm up and back. As for him, he put all of his own weight and power into trying to bring the arm with the club down. Both sweat, strained, and grunted, and as a result both sides quivered, but neither end budged. Millia knew that Venom's strength was fading, but between his position and her pain, she realized her own strength was slipping, hair or no hair. It was down to who would give out first. And she couldn't guarantee it would be him.

"So, _Millia_ …" Venom spat between clenched teeth after a moment. "Just between the two of us…who's the girl anyway…?"

"None…of your…business." The Russian icily answered.

"Your…'White Russian' heart…finally melt…? That why you…backstabbed him…? Trying to…act like you 'grew a soul'…?"

"Certain you're not just…jealous…he found me more…attractive?"

The teeth beneath the hair grit harder.

"Bitch… No one…ever loved him…like I did…"

"Too bad he never…saw it…that way…"

"Easy to step on feelings…isn't it…?" Venom sneered. "Especially…when you…never had any. How'd you like it…if I took something… _you_ cared about?"

Millia didn't respond. However, at that moment, a sound of shifting metal to one side, sounding like it was coming from the pit the car had fallen into, rang out. When it did, her eyes visibly enlarged. Soon afterward, a young grunt sounded.

As soon as that happened, the Russian flicked her eyes to the side.

She immediately caught a glimpse of what happened. Jam, still looking dizzy and groggy now that she was moving around, was prying herself up and over the edge of the dropoff. At the moment, her arms were sprawled out and she was only slowly dragging herself up and over the lip. She was trying to get away based on her angle in the hole, but at the moment she dangled helplessly.

The moment her eyes flicked to one side, Venom grinned triumphantly and used the distraction to yank himself backward, off of Millia and letting her hair go loose as he slipped his end of the cue downward. The Russian wheeled to him, but he was moving too fast. Using his good leg, he lashed out his foot and hooked it under something on the floor: one of his discarded billiard balls. He flicked it upward into the air like an odd pitching machine and reared back to smack it. From his angle, it was clear he was going to hit it right at Jam. From her position, he could hit her with enough force to kill her. The only move that Millia could make to stop it would be to lash out with her hair and intercept it before it could get out of range. But if she did that, she'd leave herself wide open.

All things Venom knew.

Still smiling, he snapped his arm around and struck the billiard ball, sending it flying like a bullet for Jam. He immediately wheeled on Millia and began to advance, ready to strike her a fatal blow with his next hit…

…And, instead, felt part of his upper mandible fracture as Millia smashed her hair into his face with enough force to dent metal. The hair flew out of his face, exposing his shocked expression as his body was launched clean out of the building, sent cascading through a floor opening and crashing into a trash-filled side alley: a distance of 150 feet easily.

As for Jam, moments before the ball hit her head, one of her legs snapped up vertically in a perfect kick. In spite of hanging from her arms, the hit was perfectly timed and knocked the billiard ball up and aside. While she gave a yelp from the impact against her foot, the projectile itself smashed into an overhead girder and obliterated.

The fight was done.

Millia immediately tried to push herself up, only to gasp and nearly swoon as she went down again. The fight over, she realized just the full measure of pain she was in. She had started this run fleeing a black market surgeon, but now she realized she needed one more than ever. She didn't know if it was possible for her to limp through airport security at this point without raising questions or getting an ambulance called on her, which would lead to her being IDed. Yet she didn't try to think too much on that right now. Her body was in misery and her head was throbbing and on the verge of blacking out. One problem at a time. She paused and gasped, hoping that the last blow had indeed put Venom down for a few minutes if not snapped his spine, because she doubted she had the strength left to finish him.

As she struggled to maintain consciousness long enough to recover, Jam slowly pulled herself fully out of the hole. While she was still stiff and dizzy, she got to her feet and, wavering herself _away_ from the hole, made her way over to Millia. She soon bent down to her side and nearly reached out to help her up, but then froze, looking her over and realizing there was nothing on her body she could grab that would likely not drive her into further pain. At any rate, Millia waved her off before she slowly got her leg underneath you.

"Are…are you alright?" She sighed a moment later. "Alright, that was a dumb question. Obviously not…"

"I'll live…" The Russian spat through grit teeth. "Somehow… I always do."

"I can't believe it. He did just what you said he would." Jam exhaled, looking over to the opening Venom had gone through and exhaling. "You said he'd try to hit me with one of those balls. Sure glad I mastered that vertical kick while in midair… But how did you know he would do that?"

"I led him to believe it would give him an advantage." Millia answered as she closed her eyes, grunted, and moved her other leg underneath her.

Jam blinked. "Huh?"

"I had too few advantages in that fight. So I purposely shouted for you to run. I purposely looked to you when you were coming out of the pit. The idea was to make Venom believe that I would be willing to take a blow for you. That way I knew when he saw he couldn't be certain of victory he would take a shot for you, which he intended to use to leave me open while I blocked. Instead, I immediately attacked him and let you handle the hit."

The chef was silent as Millia slowly got to her feet. She couldn't walk right away and wavered a bit, but she managed to keep her posture. As she breathed in and out, Jam's face began to look uneasy. "So…does that mean you basically used me as 'bait' back there?"

"Of course not." The Russian answered. "You assured me before leaving the car that you could intercept one of his shots being fired at your head, yes?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"Then there's nothing to complain about. I wouldn't have suggested this if you said you couldn't have protected yourself, and you wouldn't have agreed to the plan if I told you what I intended for you. In the world I come from, only two things are allowed: what keeps you alive and what kills you. As we are both still alive at the end of this, I conclude it was the right choice. I would never trust anyone with my life who I didn't count on being able to protect their own."

Jam still looked rather uneasy, but in the end sighed and ran a hand through her bangs. "I'm kind of starting to see why you don't have any friends…but I guess I can't argue so long as we have no more assassins to deal with." She closed her eyes and sighed. "Weeks of being on the run all over Germany, and not one world dollar for all of it. This was the worst idea I ever had… Anyway, what do we do now?"

Millia exhaled as she turned away from her and began to limp along back for where the car crashed into the building.

 _"_ _You_ get to the airport and get out of town. Don't worry about the bills. They'll be coming after me for them."

"Huh? Wait…what about you?"

"My body is an open sore. I can barely walk. I'll never make it to the airport, and if I do they'll never let me on a plane like this." The woman dully answered. "When they try to treat me, they'll identify me as a fugitive and then it will be into a cell. So I'm going to have to vanish into this city for a bit."

The chef looked stunned. "What? Are you nuts? You're in much worse shape than you were when you got poisoned! You look like you'll collapse any second!"

"That might be because I _will_ collapse any second…" The woman sighed, closing her eyes and continuing to limp away. "But that is my business. Yours is to leave this place and leave me behind."

"But…but…" The young woman answered as she began to advance toward her. "You're hurt too bad… I can't just leave you like this…"

Millia wavered a bit, dizzy once again, but shook her head and kept walking. "It doesn't matter."

"But-"

The Russian wheeled her head around, her blue eyes blazing. It was enough to freeze Jam in her tracks. She stood rigid and gaped back at her, nearly swallowing.

"Is this the sort of life you want for yourself, girl? Because this is _mine_. Wherever I go, wherever I run, and whatever I do, I will always have no money. I will always be in rooms of black market doctors. I will always be without shelter and scraping for food. And I will always, always, _always_ need to kill to survive. You don't walk where I have tread and don't look in dark corners for men with knives for the rest of your life. What you have seen today is only the first of many. There will always be times in which I will be left bloody and broken. There will always be times I have to drag myself into a hole to lick my wounds until I can get out and fight again. That's the path I've chosen. The path of a former Assassin's Syndicate member. If you stay with me, you'll forfeit the remainder of your own life and chance of happiness you have and take my burden on yourself."

The words had struck Jam. She hadn't expected such a harsh and biting retort, but Millia had done nothing more than told her the truth. Right now, Jam had a chance to walk away. Venom had been all who had seen her accurately and lived, and for all he knew his shot had finished her. Assuming he still lived, she could walk away now and he'd be none the wiser. Still, the chef hesitated. She bit her lip and continued to stand there uneasily.

"But…I don't want you to do this alone…"

"As I said, I chose this path. Of my own free will I walk it alone."

"But after all this, aren't we…" A swallow. "I mean…don't you think, just a little…we're friends?"

That word made Millia pause for half a second. When she spoke again, her voice was just a _little_ less cold.

"I have no friends and I never shall. It is a luxury I have forfeited as well. Yet it is because I think you are the closest thing in my life to a friend at this moment that I will not let you follow me."

The young woman didn't answer that, clearly caught by that response. Millia herself said no more, but what she said had been true. Being in that bed had given her a lot of time for thinking, and thinking about things besides how she was going to get the money to pay the doctor or to get out of town. The fact was she still didn't know what she was going to do with the rest of her life, or even if she _could_ do anything else with the rest of her life. The thought had entered her mind more than once to just let herself be killed. What else was there, after all? And how much of her fighting back was out of pure instinct to survive?

The only shining spot was that she realized having someone to talk to, to show her ways to make a new life, to rely on, and simply to be there was something she found more agreeable than she had anticipated. But she hadn't lived so many years self-sufficiently wanting to see someone die for her. Especially not someone she was finding herself growing to admire. Even "like". And while it was true she couldn't afford the luxury of friends, it was also true that she found she had grown to care for this chef too much to let her hurt herself, possibly kill herself, to allow her to violate that boundary.

Jam didn't back off. For a moment, Millia thought she would have to threaten her. Yet before she could, she found herself doing something she didn't expect she would.

She softened her expression and her voice.

"Jam…I thank you for everything. And I will find a way to repay you somehow. But…"

She swallowed. She wasn't sure if she had ever used this word in her entire life, and saying it sounded awkward on her lips to her.

"Please…don't put more sins on my conscience by making me drag you with me through a living hell."

This caught Jam more than anything. Her eyes widened again, not so much from surprise this time as from realization. From hearing the gentleness in the Russian's words that even she didn't know she was capable of saying. But still she hesitated. Millia slowly exhaled. For a moment, she thought she was going to have to get violent to drive her off. She didn't want to spend the energy, but there was no time for tearful goodbyes. She had dragged her along far enough. This had to end now, and soon before Venom, the police, or anyone else came across them.

Yet before another move could be made, a sound like a thunderclap came from the upper floors, shaking the rest of the structure so violently that dust and even fragments of plaster and wood rained down over them. Both women snapped on hearing the violent sound, nearly cringing in spite of themselves. Both of them turned their heads skyward, and watched as the entire structure about them visibly shook. It quickly picked up in intensity, the very girders about them beginning to give a violent rattle that quickly escalated.

Millia let out a swear in Russian.

Jam blinked. "What in the-"

That was all she managed to get out before a massive cutting swath burst through the ceiling and sliced a cut right through the entire in-work parking garage stretching into the very bedrock, and as the raw force blasted both women away like leaves in a breeze one of the halves of the entire structure gave a massive groan before crashing down on both of them.

* * *

As the elevator pulled up to the next-to-highest level, the alarm siren still sounding from the incident that had happened in the square, the sole denizen easily saw through the opening toward who was on the other side.

She was standing at one of the openings overlooking the runoff system of Tiergarten Reactor, although he doubted even she could see through the heavy snowfall too well. The only thing she would be able to make out was the vague outline of the massive pipe. It was quiet up here. Even the siren seemed muted through the falling flakes, and the way she was framed up on this floor was as if she and the chamber were the only things in a world of white. Even the lights had been dimmed. In many ways, in spite of the change of locale, it was the Cathedral all over again.

Except, of course, she had changed.

His eyes spotted a lovely dress carefully folded and placed to one side along with matching shoes. It was as if its owner planned on using it again, which of course she did not and had likely done so out of habit rather than utility. The individual herself was fully exposed, just as she had been that day in Adalwolf. Looking at her from behind, it was almost impossible to mistake her for ever having been human. Not with that thick, long, black tail coming out from behind her like an inky shadow, almost childishly topped with a yellow bow. Not with those two wings folded behind her: one looking almost carved from light blue ice, and the other looking sculpted out of dark mud. Not to mention that in the skimpy and revealing black and white garments she wore she should have been freezing, not standing casually and nearly seeming to hover where she was.

As the elevator came up, she wheeled to it. He caught a glimpse of her face. Her red eyes gleamed like a canine's might, standing out from the rest of her, but what he really saw was momentary relief and ease.

"Testa-"

The full word never got out. Immediately, her face turned first to surprise and then to fear. She raised her arms and nearly cringed behind them, even as her wings began to unfurl about her. One could just pick up the feathers on them moving, making room for the personas behind them.

Sol kept his eyes on them as he reached down with his free hand, grasped the handle of the elevator, and yanked it open. His other hand remained on his weapon as he stepped out into the chamber. At first, Dizzy stepped back, but when she did her foot hit the rear wall. She froze, looked behind her and saw there was nowhere for her to go, and then looked forward again.

As Sol advanced, her red pupils focused, and her mouth slackened a bit more.

"It's you… The one from the cathedral…"

"Glad you remember me." Sol idly answered. "I don't suppose you remember the question I asked you, did you?"

Whether she did or she didn't, she didn't answer. Her wings flayed out more as her hands shifted in front of her. "Stay away from me."

Sol halted. "Or what? You'll do to me what you did to Adalwolf?"

The Gear flashed a shade pale at that. Her knees visibly trembled as her wings recoiled slightly. "That…that…"

"Besides, why worry about me. All you need to do is do what you've been doing right now. Destroy that coolant duct and blow up Tiergarten Reactor. Then I'll simply die either in the resulting explosion or from massive radiation poisoning as well as a good part of Europe."

Now her eyes really did widen. "Wh…what? I…I thought I was only going to knock out the power! That's what he said…" Her voice was laced in horror. Yet after a moment, the wings began to enlarge again as her jaw tightened. "Testament wouldn't lie to me! He's like me!"

"If you live long enough, you'll find there's little difference between lying and withholding the truth, which is what he did. You know full well he hates humans. Their lives mean nothing to him. Although…"

His eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps they don't mean anything to _you_ either. How else would you explain how many people you murdered?"

What little anger was growing on Dizzy's expression began to fade. She again cringed. However, in her wake, the two wings continued to enlarge. As they did, a pair of faces emerged from them. The wraith face on the gray-black wing glared darkly at Sol. The angelic face on the ice blue wing was more hard-set, the look of someone both trying to defend a child as well as staring in fury at the one who had made her uncomfortable. Sol reacted to neither.

"I d-d-didn't mean to… It was them… I…I got so scared and…and they defended me… That's what they do…"

"And you think blowing up Tiergarten Reactor and fleeing in the chaos will free you from fear?" Sol retorted, his voice growing rather sharp now. "You think you'll be free of tormenters after this? That you'll never have to fear anyone again? Never have to hide or run?"

He snorted, causing the two figures to emerge head and shoulders from the wings.

"That's childish and I think you know that by now. You. Are. A. _Gear_. No matter where you go, no matter where you run, and no matter what you do, nothing will ever change that. Humanity will never stop hating you. Ever."

Dizzy cringed more, beginning to put her hands up to shield herself. "D-D-Don't…say that…"

"You can hide. You can find more isolated parts of this world. You might even find more allies like Testament. But in the end, you will _always_ be seen as an abomination. As genetic trash that never should have come into being. As a monster that needs to be slain before peace can reign supreme."

By now, the two images were large enough to bring out arms, and the wraith was beginning to draw a scythe while the angel was beginning to form a spike of ice. Both were glaring at Sol with growing intent to kill. Dizzy covered her face with her hands, but before she went too far Sol began to see tears leaking out of her eyes.

"Stop…stop…"

"Hiding from the truth isn't going to save you, and it's not going to save the people around you. If the truth scares you and terrifies you, then realize _this_ truth."

He pointed up to the two wings. Both of them actually pulled back slightly when he pointed at them, looking surprised to be recognized by him.

 _"_ _They_ are the ones in control of your power whenever you let fear cripple you. That means there will be more massacres. More destruction. More death. And that fear is something you'll have to fight each and every day of your life, because that hate will never, _ever_ go away. You will always have to hide, always have to watch carefully for people hunting you, and will always have to deal with them cursing you and hating you as if you were the devil incarnate. No reactor explosion will ever cure that. No former-human Gear will protect you from that. _You_ will have to face that. And you might have to do it _alone._ "

The air around Dizzy seemed to darken. The snow behind her seemed to actually fall a bit slower, and Sol felt the air charging. Both wings went from surprised to looking fully angry at him. And as for the Gear herself, she remained in her cringing position. But a voice that sounded like it was summoning anger to override her crippling fear issued.

"Stop talking... _now_ …"

"I still want you to answer my question. And I _am_ going to get that answer, because that answer determines whether or not this world is safer without you. If you're nothing more than some engine of death that lets her fear govern her…"

With a violent hiss, the Fireseal belched an amount of smoke from its vents before the edge glowed like hot flame. Sol's muscles tightened as he shifted his feet out into a ready stance.

"Then I'll kill you right now and not let your bounty go to waste."

Now both of the wings fully formed torsos of a wraith and a goddess, either one wreathed in glowing feathers. Dizzy's tail began to rise as she pulled her hands down. Like coals, her eyes blazed at him. While her face wasn't angry and she still trembled, it had lost its sadness and fear and turned to fury.

"If you won't go away…I'll _make_ you."

The goddess swung one of her limbs forward, and a blade of ice the length of an automobile formed instantly in midair and raced toward Sol.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	25. Black Swan

**"** **Black Swan"**

* * *

Sol immediately raised the Fireseal up to intercept the incoming ice blade, belching forth steam and sparks from its raw heat. On making contact with the opposing attack, it sheared straight through it for half a second, cutting the attack in half and sending forth water and steam, before the thermal stress was too much and the ice blade itself exploded. From the billowing clouds that resulted, the body of the red-dressed bounty hunter was flung back hard enough to make contact with the elevator grating, denting it in from his impact.

He peeled off of it a moment later, but landed on both feet. After hunching over for only a moment, he turned his head up and back to Dizzy.

His normally indifferent eyes registered genuine tension. It wasn't the explosion that had sent him slamming into the grating. It was the force from the attack even as it was being slashed and obliterated. And Sol had his feet planted the entire time…

The Gear's greenish-gray wing flexed next. As the icy blue one resumed being a normal feathered appendage, the wraith on this one swung his arms around. Sol remembered this attack from Adelwolf as a monstrous scythe erupted from his body. Quickly, he pushed himself up and charged straight at the Gear. Such a move would have been suicide by most people's estimation. Especially after seeing what she had done to those who opposed her. But, when the opponent was inexperienced, it made him an easy target. As a result, the scythe on the wing enlarged to be a combined length of shaft and blade of thirty feet long, lashing out at him so strongly that it cleanly sliced through a concrete-reinforced girder in the way.

Yet on reaching Sol, the bounty hunter flexed his legs and launched himself forward in a flying somersault, letting the monstrous blade slice through nothing beneath him. Dizzy let out an audible gasp of surprise as he landed ten feet from her. Not bothering to charge, he launched himself again in a lunge, keeping the Fireseal at the side and cocking back a fist instead.

One solid punch to her head. That would be all it would take…

Yet there was more than one "head" involved with this Gear. As Dizzy recoiled and shrank as a child might, the wraith seeped back into his own wing only for the goddess to emerge again, quickly sweeping the bulk of her wing in front of the Gear she was attached to. Sol was hitting with enough strength to shatter a car windshield, but punching the ice that resulted from the wing felt like he had just smashed his hand into tempered steel. A resounding clang went off with some mild fracturing, but that was all.

Quickly, the icy visage swung her palm out at Sol, before a sword-like blade erupted from the palm and attempted to skewer him. He immediately backstepped. The goddess, in response, readied another attack, but it seemed she needed to withdraw her spike first. Yet the delay was mostly irrelevant. During the interim, Dizzy looked up again, and weakly swung one of her own arms out at him. Sol wasn't sure if it was a trick of the eyes, but suddenly her white sleeve seemed to expand dramatically and sprout blood-red bolts, black straps, monstrous stitching, and almost an animal-like "living" quality about it. Most of all, it enlarged to reach him, forcing him to step back yet again. It might have looked like a casual slap by a sleeve, but he wasn't going to risk that thing touching him.

The sleeve itself readily morphed back into Dizzy's attire, but now the goddess emerged even more, closed her eyes, and swung her arms down. Sol managed to catch the sound of crackling below him, and feel the sharp drop in temperature around his legs, before he rapidly snapped back. A good thing too, for the concrete suddenly fractured as a new man-sized blade of ice with a razor-sharp edge ruptured from the ground where he had been standing. He quickly leapt back two more times as she generated two more.

Dizzy finally went on the move after that, although she didn't come straight at him. As both of her appendages became neutral wings again, she began to hover about the floor, the end of her tail flicking behind her as she glided as effortlessly as if she was being supported by flight wires. The bounty hunter smirked, unable to not chuckle at the irony of her having two feathered wings and not needing them in the slightest. After that, he began to charge at her again.

The goddess emerged in response, and once more swung her arms down. But this time, Sol varied his step when she did, causing her aim to be off. Rather than make the latest ice shard erupt under him, it erupted right in front of him instead. Immediately, the Fireseal came up, swung around, and shattered it; bursting it again. Some of the ice shards erupted right at the Gear, causing her to shield her eyes instinctively. That gave Sol the moment to follow through on his swing, quickly bringing it up and venting some of his own power into the mix. In response, the ground before him erupted again, this time in roaring flames which flowed like a burning wave right for the Gear. The goddess actually gaped on seeing herself unable to counter this, and Dizzy looked up in fright before rapidly shifting to one side to dodge them. That gave Sol another opening he planned to seize…

But it was useless. He barely got two steps before the wraith emerged from his own wing and lashed out with one of his bony arms, becoming far longer and more monstrous than should have been possible, and lengthening each of his nails into sharp claws the size of tree trunks. Sol quickly sidestepped to try and evade them, letting them touch the ground and rake into more of the already broken concrete. He thought of lunging from here, but that proved impossible as the monstrous hand suddenly melted and reformed into a large, greenish-gray, tomahawk-like weapon, now attached to a much shorter arm of the main wraith. Quickly, it snapped the weapon to the side in a cutting motion with a massive swath, forcing Sol to backpedal again.

Still not giving up, the moment he snapped back Sol lunged forward in a somersault roll. Again, he found himself thwarted as the wraith recoiled and the goddess sprung forth, swinging out one of her arms and wrists. An electric blue ball of ice, almost the color of Ky's robes, resulted and flew for the airborne warrior. It seemed easy enough to deflect or ignore, but the man, not wanting to second-guess anything about the powerful Gear, quickly swung his blade out while in mid-air to intercept.

It was a wise decision, because moments before reaching him the orb suddenly split and revealed a ravenous mouth filled with razor sharp teeth, snapping and snarling at him like a school of piranha. It made contact with the blade and immediately began to vaporize, but not before the impact knocked Sol back out of the sky and to the ground, and proceeded to send him dragging back further as it pushed into him, heedlessly snapping off its own teeth and melting itself into nothingness.

By the time he snapped it away and looked back up to Dizzy, she had recovered both wings and was hovering again, this time in the opposite direction. Her red eyes remained locked on him, waiting for his next move.

Sol didn't immediately charge. He took a moment to assess the situation first.

 _So in addition to all of her other tricks, she mastered construct projection. Or perhaps she just saw Testament do it and then put her own spin on it. There's likely no magic that's above her. No question that she's holding herself back. Fighting only defensively after Adelwolf. If she was using full power I'd have been dead after the first blow…_

 _Even now she's not lashing out. Not ripping me to shreds like she could. She must have_ some _control over those two when she's focused._

 _Which means I have to step up my own attempts to "unfocus" her and pray I don't die in the process._

The bounty hunter formulated a new plan, realizing his margin for error was very low. His opponent was inexperienced but consciously trying to reserve herself. That would only go so far. Whenever he overcame her, she would respond by increasing her power. And there would only be so many times she would do that before he would be crushed. Every new trick of his own he pulled out would have to work.

Quickly, he sprung to one side: specifically, Dizzy's right side, and then took off again. As expected, the wraith popped out, but there was a fraction of hesitation. It seemed the appearance of those in her wings wasn't coincidental. As savage as most of the attacks of the goddess had been, he noticed they had been aimed to wound, cripple, or incapacitate him. Even that little carnivorous ice ball had meant to gash one of his limbs, not bite his head off. She was the "kinder" one. The wraith, on the other hand, didn't care who it killed. Dizzy knew that, and so she was holding it back. He could see it in the wraith as that skull that made up most of its face seemed to tighten momentarily in fury, or frustration, while Dizzy's own face turned anxious.

But finally it was free. Swinging aside part of its own feathers as if they were nothing more than a shroud, he extended both of his bony arms. In response, a physical object appeared in midair: a double-bladed scythe. Giving a sharp whistling sound, the object hurled itself right toward Sol. Yet he wasn't going to let this bring him back as the last one had. Quickly, he ignited his blade further, making the entire weapon give off a red glow, before he swung it at the incoming projectile. While it seemed to move in a perfect arc impossible for the human mind to track, the blade made contact with the middle of the shaft at just the right moment to send the two halves of the scythe flying apart from each other; neither getting close to Sol.

Immediately, the wraith brought out the heavy tomahawk again, and swung it down to split Sol's head. Only here, almost to the Gear, did Sol slow down and plant his feet momentarily while putting both hands on his sword hilt. As the weapon came down, he brought the Fireseal up to make contact. The two weapons collided, and Sol was stunned as he felt tremendous power radiate through his limbs. He thought for sure, the wing being part of a Gear and his weapon being part of the Oversoul, that the wraith would have sprung back in pain from touching it. Yet the wraith only grit its teeth more menacingly while Dizzy herself suddenly gave a cry of pain like she had stuck her hand on a hot plate. Still, there was a slight ebbing, and Sol managed to shove off the weapon to one side, then quickly spun around and drove his sword forth toward the Gear herself.

Too slow. The goddess emerged and quickly swung her wing around to shield Dizzy again. Yet she was in for a shock this time as the Fireseal pierced her wing. Unlike Sol's fist, this one penetrated, and he saw her face tighten in shock and agony. An ice magic construct meeting fire magic from the Oversoul was not something pleasant to her. As Dizzy gave an audible cry this time, her child-like face tightening in true pain, the goddess wordlessly tightened her own face in far more agony before she slipped back into the Gear; becoming a mere wing again. The wraith used the delay to regain himself and try and slash at Sol from the side with his own weapon, but, moving like the crack of a whip, Sol yanked his sword back and sliced it around, hitting it against one of the elongated wrists of the wraith. The skull face lifted and, for a brief moment, Sol saw it was actually a mask as he briefly picked up a greenish-gray lower face underneath…which for all its savagery and darkness still grimaced in pain as it too slid back into its wing form. The Gear was unprotected. Sol brought the blade around and aimed for the main body…

Only for her to wrap her arms around herself, snap to one side, and her tail to suddenly lash out and grow eight times its former size, forming a mouth full of teeth on the end. Sol could only stare before the black pseudopod struck him.

As bad as he thought the previous blow had been, this was far worse. The dark pseudopod smashed into his upper torso and head, and yet in spite of the spread out impact it felt like a wrecking ball had been driven into him. His world swirled to black as vertigo became the only sense he knew for a few seconds, before he felt the dim sensation of his body crashing to the floor and through numerous other construction objects, most of them heavy and hard, before toppling to a halt.

Head swimming and now throbbing with pain, Sol's vision cleared as he looked to see where he was. His body was strewn over bricks that had been laid out to complete a façade around the main elevator column. He had gotten quite a bit of dirt on him, but what he really focused on besides the fact his body was bruised and aching was three bloody gashes across his chest from the teeth of the pseudopod. Each one had been a blow in and of itself, and he could already feel the burning stinging and makings of bruising rising in each one. It hurt a bit to breathe after that.

He began to yank himself back up to his feet again, only to make another, far more terrible, discovery.

That last attack had apparently been enough to put Dizzy on the offensive.

She was now showing her true speed by catching up to him in a heartbeat, with the green-gray wing rearing back the tomahawk weapon and ready to bring it down. Quickly, he snapped his body up, ignoring the fresh aches and pains from the bruising, and did a backward somersault into a reverse leap. The weapon still managed to slice off a few hairs before it made contact with the floor and smashed such a fracture into it that it split the entire concrete floor from one end of the building to another. Yet Sol hardly worried about that in view of the fact that there was only a blur of light before Dizzy was in front of him, red eyes focused and blazing, and the ice blue wing was already up and holding both palms out, firing a pair of icicles at him. It was all Sol could do to swerve out of the way to avoid having his shoulder pierced by the ice shards, but even then he felt one slice through his shoulder strap clothing, and another slice open the edge of his skin.

The assault didn't stop there. Dizzy swung her sleeve out next, once more morphing it into the deadly multi-bolted weapon she had before. This time, Sol found himself stupid enough to cross one of his arms up into a block. As soon as the bolts made contact, he found them to be red from pure heat and serrated, slicing into him and burning what was behind to cut in a series of ragged puncture wounds across the arm. Aside from that, the raw force felt like it would flay the skin off of his body, especially when Dizzy recoiled it and ripped the nuts back out. He barely had time to relish his pain, thankful that his fire element negated at least part of the normally-crippling agony that would result, but leapt back again as the green-gray wraith slashed out razor-sharp talons at him. He had to sidestep again a second later as ice shards erupted where he stood, and two more "chased" him as he struggled to dodge. All before two more scythes lashed out at him. It took far more focus for him to smack these ones aside, not having the concentration to cut them properly, and all before balls of ice formed in midair and rained down on him. Gravity wasn't the only thing forcing them down. The goddess swung both of her limbs downward to cast them with additional force. And just like her opening attack, even fueling the Fireseal he couldn't cut through them without feeling a pained jolt ripple through his limbs with each slice. Any thoughts he would have had after cutting them away to try stabbing the Gear were thrown aside when her tail flicked out yet again, once more morphing into a monstrous pseudopod. He had to quickly plant his feet and cross the blade in front of him-only for the impact to still cause a numbing jolt through his arms and nearly knock him off balance. And he scarcely had time to regain his footing after that before Dizzy advanced again, both the goddess firing off showers of deadly ice shards and the wraith bringing up the tomahawk to slam down on him again.

As Sol began to ward off the assault, he couldn't help but notice his brow was growing rather moist, beads of sweat starting to roll down the sides of his head. In spite of himself, he grinned slightly.

 _And here I thought only_ she _could make me sweat._

 _Well, her and that man…_

As the bounty hunter felt his body buckling with each hit he deflected, he knew the sad truth that she _still_ wasn't going all out. It was just as he and Ky had theorized. She was indeed stronger than Justice. If she did reach full power, she knew that he and Ky would be the only chance of defeating her without leveling half of Berlin in the process.

However, as Ky was no doubt realizing by now, he had never intended for it to come to that.

In that case, there was only one option left to him. There had been only one way for him to defeat Justice last time. What the Command Gear would never realize is that her attempts to control him at the end had actually been what had enabled him to _maintain_ control while lashing out at her with increased power. And that was a fortunate thing, because what Ky had no idea about was that if his headband was ever fully removed and he had no other restraint on his power, the result would be total annihilation. Something worse than Tiergarten Reactor, at least.

 _Much_ worse.

Loosening it now would make him start to lose sight of his objective, but he realized he had little other choice. He couldn't carry out his plan as he was now. He had controlled it before. Why not again?

Not bothering to answer that, he tightened his posture and swung up his sword one more time, deflecting another dual assault by both wings, before springing back once again, this time putting enough force in it to strain his legs a bit. It was worth it, however, because he got away long enough to do something else. And good timing too. He was only four feet from the wall on the side of the garage. Quickly, he took the second necessary to shift his sword to one hand and loosen his headband.

The green-gray wraith reared back his weapon as Dizzy flew at him again. As she arrived, he brought it across for another slashing blow.

Yet before Sol had even removed his hand from his headband, while his head was still angled downward, his grin widened a bit more, flashing a bit of teeth this time. The ends seemed a little sharp. His eyes flicked upward, and Dizzy's met them. For a moment, the Gear blinked. She could have swore she saw a red tint in them…

Then, using only one hand, Sol brought his weapon up in his normal underhanded grip to the incoming axe-like weapon. It blazed even hotter than before now, beginning to glow like a burning ember, before making contact and neatly cleaving through the end of the tomahawk with the slightest gesture.

"Ah!"

This time, Dizzy's cry was sharp as the wraith recoiled in twisted misery, actually shrinking back into the wing all the way save for the top of his cowl and skull sockets. The Gear recoiled again and went slack-jawed at Sol. He, in turn, swung his blade around back to his side and angled his head up.

"Let's try this again, shall we?"

Sol stepped off once, launching himself at the Gear. To her own surprise, the lunge was so powerful and straight, it looked for a moment as if he too could glide, and soon he was on her. Immediately, the goddess emerged and swung her arm across, generating the same massive ice blade as before that she had opened with. This time, Sol didn't even bother using both hands. He swung his blade up on his approach and cleaved into it, discharging his flame into the projection at the same time.

Once more, it exploded from thermal shock, but Sol kept on charging this time. It was a different story with the goddess. She shrieked before collapsing back into the wing again, and Dizzy cried out as well as she grasped her own shoulder where the wing had been. Yet that cry turned into a gasp a moment later as she had to rapidly fly back, narrowly missing Sol lunging forward and swiping the blade where she was.

Immediately, he advanced, slicing upward first, then slashing across, and even turning his body around and driving the blade for her gut. Each move was so rapid it left burning red trails in the air, and was so brutal even the powerful Gear could do nothing but recoil from each blow. Yet though she could fly and the terrain was getting rougher, he continued to advance on her. As he came out of the latest stab, swung around, and lunged at her again, he brought the blade behind him; clearly meaning to cleave her with an overhead chop of her own. Gasping, she recoiled further as the wraith emerged again, this time brandishing a scythe bar in front of her to protect her. This time, when the weapon came down, the greenish-gray substance buckled and fractured, but held. Yet no sooner had Sol made contact than he grinned wider, removed his blade, and lashed out with one of his legs in a forward kick. Although the green-gray wing possessed the power of decay and rot in it, his leg nimbly kicked it aside as if it was any other common weapon, something making Dizzy gasp. A moment later, sweat broke out on her own brow as Sol followed up with a forward cross slash.

She was a bit too slow this time. A whiff of ozone pierced her nostrils as the tip of the blade cleanly sliced into one of the shoulder pads on her attire. She felt the heat from the gleaming charred fabric pressed close to her skin.

Quickly, she pivoted her body and lashed out with her tail pseudopod this time. Yet Sol simply cocked his head to one side while swinging his body around, batting it away, then driving his blade for her chest again. There was no time for a counterattack. The wraith could only sweep his wing in front of her to act as a shield. While it held, it not only fractured but gleamed from burning, and the skull seemed to contort in agony. Sol rapidly ripped his blade out, actually gouging a few feathers out with it, before he leapt again, this time lashing out with a double kick more toward Dizzy's head. The wraith shielded her, but ended up taking the blows too high. In spite of her floating ability, she found herself being knocked off gravity and forced to the ground. Her feet touched a moment later. As for Sol, he landed and swung his blade around even more fiercely in rapid circles about his shoulders and head. The fire pouring off of it kindled the area about him into an almost volcanic heat, but he only grinned more. Almost madly…

As Dizzy raised her arms to protect herself, he advanced, aiming those whirling slashes for her head. She soon put her newfound speed to the test-darting her head to either side as she struggled to evade it. The wraith formed his talons again and tried to lunge at him, only for Sol to counter by snapping his arm out and slicing the hand clean from its body. The Gear cried in even more pain as the limb went free. With no defense left, the goddess, much as she feared the magic flames, was forced to emerge. She began to ready her arms for another attack…

But that was what he had been waiting for. Sol immediately put both hands on the blade, brought it about, and swung downward. The Fireseal belched forth fresh red flame which traced through the air, flashing about as if it was some sort of hellish dancer. It rapidly coalesced and reshaped, tracing the emblem of a great burning sigil in the air. A genuine magic spell. Soon after, the great emblem lunged forth at Dizzy. The Gear herself brought her arms up to shield her face, but the goddess was far worse. He saw her stretch herself out, attempting to get as far away from the flame as possible. She ended up exposing her torso almost all the way down to the hips and stretching the joint to the breaking point.

 _Good…_

Without fear of the flames, in spite of the fact they lit his own clothing ablaze, Sol charged forward, lifted the sword over his head, and brought it down on the joint of the "ice" wing.

"AAAH!"

Dizzy's cry seemed almost inhuman, sending out a violent reverberation throughout the entire structure, as the limb was lopped clean off of her. The visage of the goddess contorted in absolute agony for a moment, before it melted away like an ice sculpture cast into the corona of the sun itself.

Now she only had two limbs to defend herself with.

Quickly, Sol advanced on her again. The tail flashed out once more, this time snapping at him twice. But it was an erratic move, made from panic. He dodged the first one and then brought down the flat of his red-hot blade on the second. The tail almost seemed to squeal before it reverted back into the yellow-bowed length it had been. Dizzy continued to backpedal from him, forgetting to fly as she nearly stumbled, while the wraith emerged again and vaguely tried to fling scythes at him again. But Sol didn't weather it this time. He quickly darted inward, going inside its range and letting the scythes go wide and wild. That left Dizzy's sleeves, which she tried to use by swinging one out. Yet Sol was ready for that too, vaulting over it with ease and launching a kick outward for her head. Quickly, the wraith wrapped itself over her head and upper torso, blocking the strike. Yet Sol didn't try to hit her off balance like last time. On dropping down, he lashed out and kicked out for one of her planted legs.

With a cry of surprise, Dizzy slipped down to one knee as her balance was knocked out from under her, and instinctively the greenish-gray wing went wide. She realized too late that left her open as Sol drove the tip of the Fireseal forward, slicing clean through her white sleeves and opening a burning gash across one of her arms.

The cry that emerged from Dizzy was so piercing that Sol felt his own head burn, his vision dimming a moment and his ears ringing. That had only been a shallow cut, but the cry of agony the Gear sounded seemed enough to be a bell for judgment day as she faltered more than before. The very steel skeleton of the parking garage gave a mighty shudder, fracturing the concrete and brickwork on every floor. Yet Sol toughed through this, bringing his sword up and over and cleaving it downward.

At the last moment, the wraith emerged and extended a scythe shaft once again, putting both skeletal arms over it and bracing it in front of Dizzy. Sol planted his own feet, and the two collided. Red hot sparks splashed out from the impact. They didn't impact the bounty hunter in the slightest. After all, why should they? His clothes were literally burning on him and he wasn't reacting. The Gear herself was the only one who felt them, and she winced from the pain, but her red eyes stayed open wide glaring at Sol. She was not only fearing for her very life at the moment, but she was honestly overwhelmed.

She had to have some concept of her own true strength. The fact that he was actually pushing her to the point where he could kill her was the most horrific matter of all.

Sol continued to hold there, the heat of his blade and the flames coming off of him making him look like a gruesome demon. Yet even now, he felt himself still sweating. He felt the heat coming off of him evaporating it as soon as it came, but his body was being stretched thin. He could feel weakness seeping into it. Strain from the prior injuries was coming out. His muscles were beginning to throb. Pain and exhaustion…all things that worked their way into the mad fervor that had come over his mind. All things that slowly stole its strength away, leaving rationality behind. The red gleam slowly dimmed as he continued to bear down on the Gear.

"You still don't get it, do you?"

Dizzy had no answer. She only blinked.

"You were born literally with an angel on your left shoulder and a devil on your right. Two destinies were set before you. They aren't beyond your control because they _are_ you. They don't listen to you because you won't decide which one you want. The devil cares nothing for the weak. The angel won't keep you safe from the strong."

"I…I…"

"Decide now." Sol growled as he pushed the blade in closer, enough for the Gear to start feeling its searing heat. "What's more important to you? Keeping yourself safe or keeping from hurting the innocent? What risk is better? That you can be hurt and killed or that everyone else can be hurt and killed by you? Do you want to be the devil of this world if only your own kind will praise you as an angel? Or are you strong enough to be an angel when the world will always call you the devil?"

The Gear didn't respond. She blinked and stammered, but she didn't move. Sol glanced at her wing stump through his peripheral vision. It was slowly regrowing, but it was only doing so slowly. He had anticipated it would. At any rate, it was happening too gradually, and the wraith was slowly bending under him. The staff he held out was beginning to crack.

At last, Sol snorted.

"So in the end, you're little better than the inactive Gears. You can't even decide how you want to live."

Dizzy's eyes widened.

"The world is better off without you. _All_ of you. You should never have been born."

Her mouth opened and trembled slightly.

"I won't let you live to become another one of mankind's enemies. Another mindless killing machine. I'll destroy you first."

The sword heated further and pushed down, now slowly using its heat to cut through the staff. In moments, it would go right through and cleave the Gear beneath.

For an instant, Dizzy remained fearful. Her eyes stayed wide and she trembled. She had no more protectors. The wraith, beneath its mask, seemed to be breaking under the pressure. The goddess was still regenerating. The tail was nothing more than an extension of her. And Testament was nowhere to be found. It was just her now. Her staring death in the face with the wide-eyed gaze of a child. Only she could do something about this.

Her eyes closed momentarily. Sol watched two tears roll out of them, vaporized by the heat of his blade.

Then they opened again.

The moment they did, the lights on the floor began to dim. A cold shudder began to ripple through Sol, as if the heat had been drained from him in part. Even his own blade seemed to dim. Beneath his sword, he felt the staff solidify. The cracks began to repair themselves as her wing stump rapidly started to fill out. But most of all was the face of Dizzy. When her eyes opened again, the red lights in them burned so vivid it was as if they were flames in her head. Her face had lost its child-like innocence. It had grown firm. Focused.

Mature.

A mixture of grim satisfaction and emerging horror flowed through Sol's mind.

 _She's ready to answer. She's fully commanding them now._

Sol tried to push down harder, but just the opposite occurred. As if he was nothing more than a log of balsa wood balanced against her, Dizzy very easily rose with him putting his full power and weight on her. In a moment, she was standing again. By that point, both wings were fully regenerated. The flaming scrape he had made in her body rapidly healed itself, leaving her flawless and unscarred even from the heat. And still her face burned into him.

It was exactly as he had dreaded. He might not survive the test.

Quickly, the man vented his blade, sending out more flame. It never even reached the white wing. The green-gray one seemed to cause the flame to turn cold the moment it emerged, before the staff suddenly disappeared. Instead, it immediately formed two new limbs with the massive tomahawk in them, and it swung down on Sol with the speed and power of a thunderbolt. The bounty hunter's eternally cool face broke composure as he fell back in a desperate attempt to evade.

The tomahawk swung down and struck the building, and immediately a brilliant flash rocked through the entire structure; splitting it at an angle from top to bottom. Light exploded from within before a fracture emerged. Moments later, a titanic rumbling went out as stone crumbled, brick eroded, and dust and metal issued forth in billowing clouds as a third of the entire garage slid downward before collapsing entirely into twisted metal rubble beneath the construction site.

The garage hadn't even been the target, but the sheer force of the strike had sliced it in half.

Had Sol had presence of mind, he realized that was no big feat. Not for a creature that had done the same to an aerial battleship. But he didn't have the presence of mind because, at the moment, he was in mind-numbing agony. A massive bloody gash was erupting from across half of his chest where he had narrowly missed the strike only to take the cast-off force. He felt half of his rib cage snapped and nearly fractured inward. His body should have been knocked two blocks away by that impact…but it wasn't.

The green-gray wing had moved so fast that immediately after striking, it morphed the weapon into a bony limb which shot out and seized him, massive enough to envelop his entire torso in its grip. Now, its full power went into him. Death, rot, decay…he felt the power he had unleashed by loosening his headband suddenly being drained out of him. The hellish limb was siphoning the life out of his body and eroding him both outside and within. Yet soon, it made it worse. Abruptly lengths erupted from the bony limb, rapidly swelling and enlarging. Cracking open his agonized eyes, Sol watched as the arm suddenly turned into a mass of writhing worm tentacles, each of which thrashed once before jamming themselves into his body. All of them began to feed hungrily on him. He could almost feel the marrow being sucked from his bones…

Crying out with what strength was still in him, somehow he hoisted the Fireseal, brought it about, and lashed down a flaming slice that severed half of them with one strike.

It was an empty victory, for now the wing snapped about and flung him like a spear thrower launching a lancelet. His senses swirled as he was cast about and smashed into the concrete ceiling, fracturing it further before the sheer impact caused him to bounce off like a pinball and head for the ground. Only he never reached it. Before he could make impact, four blades of ice erupted forth and met him: each one slicing into and through one of his limbs. While he didn't scream, his face contorted in agony as blood erupted from the wounds.

Giving a violent hiss, he still managed to work the wrist holding on to his sword, and snapped it down. Fire vented off of it again, and to the tune of more pain rocking through his body, the ice was shattered and dropped him. It seemed impossible. Even an advanced magic would be crippled, bleeding, and helpless. Sol wasn't far from that, but he had far more than a human's strength and constitution coursing through him right now as he somehow managed to lean up and slice out with his blade in Dizzy's direction, generating the great flaming sigil again…

Her sleeve tore through it as if it was no more than smoke and struck his back with the red hot bolts. Now he did cry out as they seared like hooks into his flesh, then ripped him off the ground, around, and smashed him with pavement-shattering force into the remains of the concrete floor. He felt at least two more bones snap with that.

Blood now mottling his mouth, his senses barely still alert and functional, he saw that he had landed on his back. Through an impossible action, he willed his arm to move. It lashed up and out and sliced clean through the sleeve that had seized him. The severed end immediately burnt up, but the owner didn't even make a sound as the remaining end instantly regenerated and withdrew. At once, the goddess swept her arm out again. Ice spikes again issued forth, and much to his misery they pierced him in all four limbs in new locations-these ones closer to the ends of the limbs to keep them from moving.

He began to raise his sword to counter, but never got far enough as the wraith again generated the scythe and loomed over him, pressing the blade right down to his neck. As the skeletal visage towered over him, the eye sockets now clearly burning red, Sol froze. One bit of pressure would be all it would take to lop his head off. Yet his gaze wasn't on him.

It was on the strained, tight face of Dizzy glaring down on him.

Her body was hovering right over his now, the goddess keeping his limbs pinned while the wraith poised to finish the job. Her power had vented itself so greatly at this point that the electricity was dead in the building. Sol's own sword had dimmed, leaving only one source of light in the darkness: Dizzy's own red eyes. They were glowing so brightly now he could actually make out the outline of her face. It was expressionless and grim, focused over him.

And in the midst of his pain and senselessness, even a touch of genuine fear in his heart, he forced himself to have only one reaction. He glared right back at her wrathfully. His sharpened teeth were clenched, and his eyes met the inhuman gaze. It promised nothing but violence. Nothing but death. Nothing but another attempt on her life as soon as it was up. Perhaps she could damage it or cripple it, but it would rise again. And it would bring more power next time. It wanted to now. There was hate in those eyes. Hate for what she was. A lust to destroy it.

She quivered. Her stony face trembled slightly, but the eyes remained focused. They didn't move for a second. The scythe lifted. Sol only glared at her more hatefully as it readied.

Her face tightened, and the scythe came down.

Sol wasn't sure if concrete could "clang", or, even if it could, if the scythe was made of true metal. But in either event, it was so close to his ear it made him wince when the blade came down, not touching his neck but driving itself down at his side instead.

With a voice like that of a god, she spoke.

" _Never_ come near me again."

The scythe vanished and replaced itself with a green limb, which struck out with such violence that it slapped Sol's impaled limb and knocked the Fireseal across the floor, far from where he could use it to free himself. The bounty hunter's hate faded, but it continued to glare at her.

Taking in one deep breath, Dizzy floated off of him. His red eyes continued to burn into her as the two visages resumed being wings. But they had always been wings that time. Nothing more than extensions of her. All her personality; all her focus. And with them gone, she turned and began to fly again. Sol didn't see where she went. He was too beaten and sore. His limbs were pierced and his chest broken. It hurt even to move. He only heard silence in his wake.

It was only when he was sure it was quiet and he heard the elevator flicker a moment from power somehow being restored to it that he leaned his head back. He smiled a bit to himself.

"Good answer, little girl."

* * *

 _What in the Name of God has he done?!_

Ky was such a devout man even thinking such thoughts were borderline blasphemy for him, but at the moment he could hardly restrain them. What he was doing right now was madness. A moment ago, he had seen a light flashing through the intense snowstorm, only moments after feeling the electric signatures within the structure flare. To be honest, he was detecting several high level magics in the area…more, in fact, than there should have been just for their group. Yet his focus was all on the ones near the top. Ones the dwarfed all the others beneath them. He had felt one flare up only for the other to completely overshadow it. Worse than that, he saw a brilliant flash in the falling snow before he felt the world around him shake violently, right before a cloud of debris and smoke rolled over him. He realized soon after that the building had literally been cleaved in two. At that point, the power to the building itself died, but the discharge of magic grew so chaotic he could no longer focus on what was happening.

He truly didn't know if Chipp was alright at the moment or about the other signatures, but he put that aside for now. His focus was on the Gear. If she was venting her full power again, they were likely all doomed. Especially since there was no way the local police and military hadn't detected that tremor. All other means of hiding their tracks were irrelevant compared to that. He at last broke out of the snowfall and into the remains of the building, now pitch black. A simple spell along the Thunderseal served as illumination, and quickly he ran to the service elevator. Power was gone, but that was a small matter for a lightning mage. He needed only touch the tip of his blade to the controls and feed his power into it to reanimate the elevator. In moments, it had enough juice to move to the upper floors and, seeing as it hadn't been damaged into inoperation, he set it to take him to the top floor.

As it turned out, he was still two floors below when he came to a dented grating. He stopped the elevator there and quickly emerged, making his blade flare further to not only send off bolts of electric light but to actually power the lighting on this floor. What he saw was astonishing. They hardly needed bombs now. From the errant destruction of the floor, looking nearly like a giant had tried to fold it in half, he knew that she had vented her power again. This could only have come from a battle. Not long after, he spotted the man himself.

Impaled on four spikes stretching out his limbs, body bloody and bruised, and his clothing nearly burned off, was Sol. The man barely looked conscious in spite of the horrific beating he had to have taken, but somehow his eyes were still open. When Ky shone the light over him, his eyes flickered to him.

The former Sacred Order member's rage flared. The man was a fool. He knew full well even his power couldn't take the Gear alone, and yet he had fought her anyway. As a result, he had been beaten nearly to a pulp and was useless now, and there was no way Ky could take him herself. Their one backup contingency was ruined, and the fact that Sol had actually fought her at all meant there was likely no way they could get her to listen to reason now.

What insanity had gone through that man's head?

In spite of his growing anger for him and his fury at how everything had been ruined by his gesture, Ky couldn't help but feel a small twinge of concern for Sol's well-being. Enough to where he rushed to his side quickly and lopped out with the tip of his blade. He knew how to work things like this. There had been spike traps in play on the field during the Crusades that his own men had gone into by accident before, after all. As he lopped off the second one and let Sol's legs fall, the man gave a mild grunt, then looked to him weakly.

"You made good time."

"Not nearly good enough. The fight is already over." Ky nearly hissed in response. "If I had any sense I'd leave you here to hang as penance if nothing else. You've completely destroyed our plan."

Sol closed his eyes in response as Ky moved to the arms.

The man stopped when the bounty hunter spoke; perfectly calm and serious.

"This was always the plan, Ky."

The captain stared at him silently. He thought of angrily countering, but he realized Sol was using _that_ tone of voice. The kind he used in the rare situations back in the Sacred Order when he wasn't casual or devil-may-care but was dead serious.

"You were using your head in thinking that only the two of us had a chance against her, but you weren't thinking clearly enough about what that meant. Take a look around you, Ky. Take a good look."

The captain blinked once, but then looked up and around. Girders sliced through like they were made of paper. The ground fractured and groaning. It would likely collapse at any time and take the rest of the building with it. Marks of fire, frost, and rot all about. Dents in some of the metal. The marks of the massive cut that had sheared the building in two.

"Still only at half power for her. And that's being conservative. There was never any way we could have beaten her without blowing everything. Not without calling the city down on us. We'd have destroyed another few city blocks trying. Taking her on was always a foolish dream. You knew it was hopeless for you alone. I knew the same. I just knew that _you_ didn't know the extent of my power. She's beyond Justice just as we feared. She's beyond both of us unless we stop caring about who else gets killed in the process. We weren't going to win this by fighting."

Ky's jaw hung a bit loose. He had to admit, that made sense. Remembering Adelwolf, he realized that day then and there that he had no chance. But after seeing Sol hold off Justice alone, he had assumed the man had far more power to bring to bear. He had thought it would be enough, but he realized he had gone on Sol's word the whole time. Not on his own experience or estimation. He thought he could trust him yet again…

He looked back to him. "Then…why-"

"Saving her was what you all wanted to do. It wasn't necessarily what _I_ wanted."

His eyes widened. "…What?"

"The world had a point in fearing her, Ky. We know nothing about her. We don't know where she came from or her purpose. And we agreed we didn't know if it was already too late for her. If she'd hate mankind for all they had done to her. And that's not something that she could answer just by asking a simple question. It's something you can only answer when put to the test. She needed someone powerful enough to make her feel fear and strong enough to strip away her two personas. Someone who could put a knife to her heart and _only_ her heart. No one to take a shot for her or defend her. Just her and someone who was willing to kill her, cursing her and her lineage all the way. The world would only be safe from her if she could be brought to that point and yet still spare that person's life. If she truly was willing to forgive the millions that will hate her until the day she dies. The fact that I'm still here confirms it."

He focused more intently on Ky.

 _"_ _Now_ …I'm willing to sacrifice myself to save her."

The captain was left stunned into silence. Most of him wanted to wring Sol's neck for what he had done, and done so without telling anyone about it. He realized he had just taken a gamble so costly that it not only may have ruined any chance of stopping Dizzy by force, but had risked the lives of most of Berlin as well. And yet, in spite of feeling betrayed yet again, he found he couldn't hate him for this. In fact, he was a bit appreciative.

A worm of doubt had lingered in the back of his mind about this. He didn't spend most of his life living under Gears and then fighting them without having the sinking suspicion, deep down in his heart of hearts, that all of them were of the devil. Had Justice not revealed her face to him before she died, he would have likely clung to that even now. A part of him had indeed wondered if this world and even one Gear could coexist. However, that desire was gone now. Even if the Gear was too young to know who Sol was, Testament had to have told her. And knowing Sol, he likely had made himself the villain the entire time. Yet she had still spared his life, when he alone had been far more of a threat to her than three hovering battleships. That confirmed to Ky now that as tragic as what had happened in Adelwolf was, it was ultimately an accident born out of self-defense rather than a deliberate massacre.

Of course, that left a problem…

"Alright then. How do we convince her to stand down, though?"

Sol grunted a bit as the last of his bindings was broken, closing his eyes and exhaling.

"That's your job now."

Again, the captain's eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"I'm leaving it to you."

His teeth began to grit as fresh anger flowed into him. "First you rile her up with your change of plans, and now you're leaving it to me to restrain her?"

"She doesn't need someone to restrain her any more than she needs me to be the one to convince her, Ky." Sol responded, his tone once again unusually growing firm and commanding his attention. "It was never going to be me with that job. Testament had to have let her know who and what I am. Even if she didn't, I'm a bounty hunter. I do what I please when I please. It's _you_ who needs to do this."

Ky nearly opened his mouth to shoot back what that was supposed to mean. However, nothing came out. He realized that he had a point. He was their greatest enemy. The human who could slay them and who persecuted them until the day they were defeated. The ultimate soldier devoted single-mindedly to their destruction. If he could turn and convince her that he accepted her, then it would, in a way, represent the future potential of the whole human race. The greatest Gear killer wanted her to live.

But aside them that, he realized something else. He still remembered what Sol had told him back in England before he walked away. Words that left him so stunned he was unable to tell the IPF where he had gone for the feelings of shame and guilt they brought. He also knew the main reason he had started his insurrection was because he desired to learn true justice and to make up for any sleight or unfairness he had given to the Command Gear; to have a clean conscience.

Was Sol now standing aside so he could have that?

He wasn't sure if this idea of Sol's wasn't at least partially madness, but after trusting the man this far his old memory was stirring of back in the Crusades. Sol had lots of moves that had seemed like insanity but had almost always come out in the end, and he didn't think he would trust this one to pure recklessness. Swallowing back, he finally did speak.

"How do I find her?"

"She's not experienced enough to run properly on her own." Sol answered, lifting one of his bleeding limbs and gesturing skyward. "Rather than go down the elevator shaft, when she realized it wasn't working she went higher. Trapped herself, hopefully…rather than just tried to fly to another roof. She'll probably figure that out soon, though…especially since there's little chance someone didn't see half of the garage collapse; snowstorm or not."

Ky felt his frown return. He could have told him about that sooner, but chewing him out about it wouldn't help now. Brandishing his sword once again, he turned and ran back to the elevator. As soon as he reached it, he extended his blade and touched it to the panel, sending in a pulse of electricity to get it working once again and then focusing the energy there. As the machine flickered to life, he turned his head back to Sol once more.

"…Any more 'surprises' you have for the overall plan?"

"Of course not. It'll be all I can do to get myself up and out of here."

The manner in which he responded was far too casual, but Ky couldn't really afford to wait.

"In that case, I hope the part of the building that got cut from here didn't block the road out." He finally stated before stepping into the opening chamber.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	26. Open Your Heart

**"** **Open Your Heart"**

* * *

May had just finished removing her anchor from the fuselage when she heard it along with all the others.

April had begun to collapse the prop in the back of their escape vehicle: a large modified dump truck used specifically for moving out waste from construction sites. It wasn't the fastest thing in the world, but the back was deep, easily able to be obscured by setting up fake debris around the sides, and one could drop right into it and be hidden from view. What more, what it couldn't do in terms of speed it made up for in terms of momentum when it got going. It would plow right through a motor barricade and take gunshots to the tires if need be. Even so, they'd have to pretty much floor it to make the window of time.

Johnny had entrusted the best of the crew there to make sure this end of the operation went smoothly. As soon as April and May had come in for a landing, the latter had spotted July pressed against the nearest ambush point waiting to disable anyone who wandered along. Augus had already taken care of breaking into the vehicle and hotwiring it, while Octy was perched on top of the cab and using the vantage point to scan the surrounding area. In spite of the darkness and snowfall, May knew that her eyes were keen enough to spot a sparrow flitting a quarter mile away; making her the best for this job while the remainder of the crew got ready to do the fly-by with the May Ship.

By now, May knew that everything was happening simultaneously. While Johnny gave that pale-faced Gear a good thrashing, the bounty hunter and the captain would be going up to Dizzy and either convincing her to come with them or in a potentially worse turn would _make_ her come with them. May felt uneasy about the whole thing, only she wasn't sure to be more worried about what they would do to Dizzy or what she could do to _them_. And all of this while that ninja was putting bombs throughout the entire building, so that when they got her out they'd blow up the garage at the same time, creating the perfect cover.

However, the sound she and the others heard had clearly been part of a building collapsing. They hadn't done their line of work for so long and not been able to recognize it when it happened. As a result, all of the girls tensed at the same time and turned their heads in the same direction.

"What was that?" July sounded.

"That came from the garage…" April uneasily muttered.

May tensed up considerably, glancing at the time. Five minutes in. That bomb wasn't supposed to go off until they were already on their way out. Did one of them go off early? It wouldn't be the first time Novel had made a bad detonator.

"Octy, what do you see?" Augus spoke up from the cab.

The lookout answered by extending her already open spyglass another few inches, then turning it in the direction of the garage. In spite of the snow cover, she seemed to be scrutinizing it as if she could clearly see something beyond. May herself turned and looked; her mind secretly hoping she could spot something, but saw only falling flakes.

"Big cloud of dust…" She remarked after a moment.

This caused a wave of anxiety through everyone, not just May. After all, their captain was still out there. Yet the first mate tensed even more at the thought of what could have gone wrong.

"Wait…" She paused. "Now I see it. It looks like something gigantic did a diagonal slice right through the garage. Part of it slid right off and collapsed."

"Did you say 'slice'?" July spoke up.

Removing the spyglass, Octy gave a nod.

"Makes sense…" April mused aloud. "I didn't hear any sort of boom. Definitely not one big enough to bring it all down… But you can bet the cops and the army heard that. If we thought our time window was narrow before-Hey!"

The pilot was cut off and exclaimed as she saw May suddenly run to the edge of the truck, leap over the side, and begin to dash down the street toward the direction of the garage. The other members of the Jellyfish Air Pirates shared her shock.

"May! What are you doing?"

"Something happened!" She shouted over her shoulder. "Only Dizzy could have cut that building like that! I've got to make sure Johnny and her'll get out of there! Just make sure you get the truck there in time!"

"But…but May! "Don't run off! We don't know what happened! It might be dangerous!"

Yet her words were lost. May was already vanishing into the falling snow.

* * *

With his adrenaline rush rapidly fading, Chipp was feeling a greater amount of pain and trauma with each passing second. It was taking most of his trained focus to ignore it as he forced himself to limp back to the first column at long last. He quickly glanced over it and, fortunately, he saw the bomb was still there. Some of the ones he had doubled back to had been removed. With less than nine minutes left, he couldn't afford to go back to all of them. He could no longer be completely sure about the timing being synchronized thanks to that assailant, but he made his best guess as he ran some mental math and reset the timer.

 _This is going to have to do. Hopefully it'll still demolish the place. With any luck, whatever just "took a little off the top" did enough damage to where this can take care of the rest._

After committing, Chipp turned and began to limp for the quickest way out. Obviously that fight up above him had turned rather severe. That much had been true when the entire structure had given a violent rattle before a blow that sounded like it was cracking the entire city in two split the building. He realized when he was out of his league. As bad as Testament had been, he'd rather fight three of him at a time than what had just done that. His part in things was over and it was time to trust the others. He wasn't even in good enough shape to try and head off any of the authorities that came along.

It took a bit of limping and maneuvering, but he managed to make his way back to his entrance. It wasn't one of the main openings but rather a side vacancy left in place for a future window. He used that route on purpose due to the uneven terrain keeping him from leaving any tracks. Feeling thankful that his legs were mostly intact, he moved over to the location, hopped up some adjoining debris to reach the aperture, and then dove outside. It was a bit rough on the landing and jarred his arm, but he managed to roll and tuck his legs underneath him to touch down on the opposite side on some discarded cloth sacks.

In another moment he would have gotten up and run, when he froze yet again. Tsuyoshi had taught him as a ninja to not only exploit lack of awareness in opponents, but to be mindful of his own surroundings. And there was something here that immediately caught his eye.

Tracks in the snow leading into the building.

They weren't, as he might have expected, tracks of bars in the snow. His opponent had been wearing Japanese getas, which would have left those behind. If that had been what had come in, he would have dismissed them right then and there. However, these were tracks that were far flatter and deeper. They had no treads other than some horizontal ridges that indicated what they were made from rather than an attempt to increase surface area. Chipp wasn't any sort of master tracker, but he knew enough to realize that none of the footwear he had seen on the others so far matched that, and neither did they match the tracks of a standard police or army unit, who likely would have wore boots for the weather.

Then who was it?

As he asked himself this question, a new sight came out from the heavy snowfall, catching his eyes. He looked up, and found himself staring outside of the construction "gulley" in which the bulk of the heavy equipment and materials had been piled to a surrounding ridge that served as a staging area for further equipment, although it created a sort of escarpment about the building.

It was hard between his soreness and the heavy snow to make it out, but he just managed to spot a figure standing on the edge and looking at the building. He caught a tuft of blond hair, and a long white coat with blue trim. It soon clicked.

 _Ky_.

However, the realization made him frown. The fight had clearly started, but he wasn't already there? In fact, considering the lack of a follow-up to the last attack, Chipp had begun to think whatever was going to be physical up there had come to a termination. And yet, here Ky stood. Not only that, but he wasn't immediately charging in either in spite of the fact things had to already be going bad. In spite of his tendency to be quiet and go carefully about these sorts of things, Chipp found himself nearly shouting out at him as to what he was waiting for.

Yet he didn't get the chance. Suddenly, he saw him squat and then leap toward the structure. Chipp actually blinked a bit. He cleared two floors with an easy bound, presumably going in through a side opening. The ninja couldn't tell for sure, seeing as his body went forward in such a way to be obscured by the line of sight of the building itself.

He stared a moment more, but then frowned and looked away, beginning to move once again. He was a better fighter than him and obviously had power to spare. If anything came up, he was sure he could deal with it. As he concluded, his part in this was over. It wasn't like he could catch him anyway to tell him one way or another.

Still, one thing seemed peculiar to him.

 _Was he wearing night-vision goggles or something? I could've swore they were glowing green…_

* * *

Normally needing to ask someone where to locate a Gear was almost ludicrous for a person like Ky. With his specialty being in electricity magic, finding a Gear was child's play. Unfortunately, this close to Dizzy, all he was sensing was her overwhelming aura in all directions. He didn't like the sensation of that one bit, and not simply due to her power. With her this close, he couldn't sense anything else; not even another Gear. And he hadn't forgotten that while Testament may have been too wounded to fight, he was still conscious and his mere presence would be a detriment. At any moment he could show up again. Until now, Ky had been hoping that he would be preoccupied with Johnny while he and Sol dealt with Dizzy. Now that this wasn't a possibility…

There weren't many more floors to go up from Sol's position. Only two in all, and if she was going up she likely would keep on going until she reached the top. As a result, Ky kept right on until he saw snowflakes beginning to drift through the grating, and started to feel the coldness of the night whip around him in a passing gust. A bit further, and he saw through the mesh as the sky opened up again into a world of white bees…

Only to feel a sudden strong impulse, before a giant, greenish-gray scythe lashed right out for him.

Purely on instinct and magical sensory ability, he dove right forward. The only reason he didn't stupidly smash right into the bent grating was the scythe made contact with the front half of the elevator first, shearing it easily in two and ripping the grating straight off. Ironically, this served to let him roll right out into the already-snow-covered roof. Out of common practice, he quickly sprang up and extended the Thunderseal to the side, his power churning through it to make it blaze with energy.

The roof of the garage was one with gradual tiers rather than circular ramps. As a result, it actually was split halfway along into an upper and a lower platform. Standing on the ground leading to the lower one yet still exposed to the outside was Dizzy. In her current form, she was a sight to behold. Every bit the creature both glorious and wrathful that had appeared in Adelwolf. Her darker wing was reverting back into its previous shape, but both wings were wide and extended, like a bird ready to take flight. However, she had gone nowhere, and it was clear she didn't plan to go anywhere or she would have fled as soon as Ky appeared. Either she didn't know what to do from here or she was waiting on Testament. Yet here she hovered just above the snow and, through the curtains of white falling down, her red eyes gleamed. Ky was honestly amazed to see her looking so clean and fresh after her fight with Sol.

Then again, amazed was probably not the right word.

More like nervous.

The wings arched partially toward him.

"Stay away from me! I'm warning you! I'll hurt you until you can't move anymore if you don't!"

Ky hesitated. After a moment of thought, he figured that Dizzy wasn't experienced enough to take advantage of him being distracted, so he risked a look behind him.

The elevator had been half sheared, but not fully cut through. He realized this had been intentional all along. The slice would have left a deep cut across his chest, and likely some sort of magical wound would have resulted, but he realized he would have survived.

It seemed almost odd that Dizzy suddenly had more control. Maybe she had been working on it ever since Adelwolf. Or, in a more radical theory, perhaps fighting Sol, an individual who could force her to focus her power and bring out more of it, she had actually learned to control herself better. Perhaps Sol had more than one intention with his attack on her.

At any rate, the bottom line was that Ky couldn't afford to be incapacitated by her.

Focusing as calmly as he could, the man took in a deep breath and held up one of his hands.

"Settle down. I don't want to fight."

"I don't believe you." The Gear instantly shot back. "Your weapon is full of energy."

Ky grimaced. Yes, it was sparking. Lightning magic was notoriously hard to control, but Ky had mastered most of it. What he hadn't mastered he had managed to confine to moments such as this, where he could afford to let his control slip so long as it was keeping his sword primed for combat. Sadly, that wasn't a very useful thing to have at the moment. He had never expected to try negotiating with a Gear before, after all.

Inhaling deeply, Ky looked to his sword and concentrated. Slowly, the electricity cascading off of it dimmed and shrank back into the blade. Now if only he could control himself and not let it spark out again. He looked back up to her a moment later.

"Alright, I called it back."

"Throw your sword down."

In most situations, Ky would comply. However, this time he knew he couldn't afford to. Dizzy was nervous about him attacking. She knew as long as he had that weapon he might be able to inflict a critical blow on her. For that reason, she wouldn't risk trying to fly away or escape while he had it to strike her with. Putting it down would give her the opportunity to flee.

He tried to instead get to the matter at hand.

"Just stay calm and listen to me…"

"Put down the sword!" Dizzy shot back, her wings lengthening further and her red eyes blazing.

He nearly slipping on his control at that, but he managed to control it by holding his hand up higher. "Don't you remember me from the Cathedral? I told you then that I wanted to help you!"

Dizzy nearly retorted, looking ready to shout at him to put the Thunderseal down again, but then she paused. For a moment, the red light dimmed. Yet it lasted only a moment before it blazed brighter than before.

"You're lying. You said that, and then all of those men attacked me. And then I lost control, and all of those people died. I never felt so horrible…"

Her voice began to grow more incensed. Her hands tightened into fists. Ky swallowed as he saw a pair of faces begin to emerge from her wings. Both of them looked at him with nothing but contempt.

"You led more men here, didn't you?" She spoke bitterly. "You're going to force me to kill more people, aren't you?"

Hands emerged from the lighter wing while the scythe began to emerge from the other.

"I had nothing to do with that!" Ky shouted. "You have to-"

He cut himself off and dodged to one side; his senses alerting him just in time as he saw a goddess emerge from the wing and wave her hand. In response, ice erupted from the ground in sharp spikes where he stood. Although he managed to evade it thanks to the signal, he lost his focus on his blade, and again it blazed with lightning. Dizzy saw this, and her red eyes flared in alarm before the wraith emerged from the other wing.

As soon as it was free, it swung the feathers about it to one side, spreading them like a cloak, and generating five scythe blades in its wake. All five whirled straight for Ky, whistling like boomerangs. Quickly, the captain planted his feet, swung his blade up and around, and crossed it in front of him. In five quick, sharp, movements, he deflected four of the blades; not only intercepting them with blur-like movements but sending a jolt of his electricity into them, inducing a magnetic field across the metal and causing them to fly off wildly. As he brought up his blade to deflect the fifth and final one, however, his senses again triggered; this time telling him that there was movement coming from his flank. His peripheral vision shifted, and he saw the goddess was swinging her arm at him, sending out a sphere of darker blue ice for that side.

One projectile was hardly ensuring anything against an opponent like him, and Ky had a feeling that there was more to this attack as a result. With that in mind, rather than shift to block, he quickly focused his power. A much larger bolt of lightning snaked off of his sword in response, shot out, and made contact with the ice sphere. After a second of focus, it was instantly annihilated. Yet it seemed simply distracting him was all Dizzy had been going for as this gave the wraith the chance to reform the scythe, extend it as far as before, and lash out for Ky's legs. The captain snapped his attention back to this nearly too late, and relied on a more unconventional move to evade it: leaping to let the blade come under him.

Unfortunately, that was also what she wanted, as the goddess swung both of her arms downward. In response, Ky found a shadow falling over him as a large and thick sphere of ice materialized over his head and cast down. In midair, he realized he didn't have any good footing to block it, and it was too close for anything fancy. Only having one solution left, he quickly shifted the Thunderseal to both hands, channeled more power into the blade, and then swung it upward. The sword made contact a moment later and, to his surprise, he actually felt a strong amount of resistance oppose him. She was not only throwing the attack down on him, but she was holding it together. Gritting his teeth and putting some extra power in his limbs, he forced the blade up further, and after a second more the weapon powered through and cleaved the ice in half. His cast-off electricity shattered the remains.

As he came back down, forced back to his feet by the power, he quickly braced himself, knowing she'd try another attack soon. His assumption was right, although what happened still shocked him. In an instant, Dizzy had closed the distance to him, and the wraith had brought up his scythe again. Only it was no longer a scythe at this point but a great hand axe, and he had scarcely spotted it when it came down on him.

Quickly, Ky planted his feet and brought up his sword to block. To his surprise, the blow was so strong that his arms buckled, letting the blade go down far enough to actually slice the side of his forehead before he managed to stop it. He grit his teeth in agony. Not only did that blow manage to draw blood, but the weapon itself was like a club as well as a blade, knocking his skull as well. If that wasn't enough, he immediately felt a burning coldness where it had made contact. That thing had some sort of decay power in it, and he knew he was feeling his own flesh necrotizing. It was only by quickly focusing his lightning magic to the wound and coursing the energy through it he was able to halt the spell before it spread into his head. But even then, he found the axe was still bearing down on him. The wraith that wielded it seemed to glare at him murderously, both of its bony arms bearing down on the weapon. Dizzy herself merely stared at him with blazing red eyes, by comparison. It was just as Sol said. There were three personas there…

 _I don't think she even realizes that one wants to kill._

 _Stay defensive. If I go on the offense, she'll destroy me with one hit._

"I admit, I was with that group that attacked you before! But I never told them to attack you!" Ky shouted over the clashing of the blades and energy. "I was in the Cathedral with you! I put myself in the same danger as you! I wanted to talk to you! I wanted you to come out peacefully!"

Again, the red light dimmed in Dizzy's eyes. Her face softened a little, although the wraith continued to look just as bloodthirsty and force down just as hard as before. Yet after a few seconds, it hardened again.

"I don't believe you. I know who you are. Testament told me you're Ky Kiske. You're the greatest killer of my kind. To you, I'm just a monster. You want me destroyed."

The weapon began to push down harder. The blade again began to near his head.

Ky shuddered. The power was getting to be too much for him and Dizzy had more to spare. He couldn't afford to talk much longer. He'd have to get free, and do so in such a way that he wouldn't incite the Gear to attack further. Taking in a sharp inhale, he focused in his blade once again, concentrating his power.

 _Her body is weak… Her body is weak…_

A moment later, the blade ignited in a brilliant flash, illuminated like a lightning bolt. Dizzy's red eyes widened before she cried out and recoiled. Luckily the wings seemed to function in the same way as the wraith's skull distorted in what seemed like agony and pulled off, allowing Ky to quickly snap back. He nearly called out again, only to see he wasn't clear yet. Dizzy and the wraith were blinded, but the goddess instantly popped out of the wing and swung her hands down. The roof around Ky burst as bigger icicles than before came out. He quickly sidestepped, but this time they were coming too fast for him to track. He didn't step far enough and a secondary icicle quickly sliced out and slashed the side of the foot, easily going through his boot and cutting a deep gash into it. He faltered a moment, before forcing his good leg to push him backward, narrowly missing a follow-up icicle. This one pierced the hem of his coat instead and tore as he went back.

The ice only continued to come after that, and now Ky was bleeding quite a bit from his one foot. More than that, while Dizzy was rubbing her eyes, the green-gray wraith was already looking up in new rage. Realizing he had no time to delay, he had to make another gamble. Fearing that this would ruin things even more, he charged his power and swung his blade out at her. Luckily for him she was still open, and as a cloud of electricity discharged from the blade, she didn't have time to sweep her wings in front of her before the charge impacted her.

She gave a mild cry of pain as a large crackle-zap went off across her chest, and her wings suddenly reverted and faltered. She herself sank to the ground, alighting with both feet. Inwardly, Ky praised God for his help. He had meant to strike her with a stunning blow like a taser, but having no frame of reference for power he quickly had to choose a voltage level that would merely stun and immobilize her rather than inflict pain, which would only invoke a much greater response. He seemed to have chosen right and got her when she was open.

However, anxiously, he realized that had likely been the only free shot he was going to get and when she recovered she'd attack more powerfully than ever. That meant he had to talk well while he could. Quickly he lowered the Thunderseal and cut off the energy.

"I don't want to kill you or hurt you. I'll admit, I did in the past, but not now. I didn't come here to fight you."

Dizzy only looked up to him with red-eyed blazing. Already, the wings were starting to "fluff". "You just attacked me and you say you don't want to hurt me?"

"I have a right to defend myself, the same as you!"

Ky wasn't sure what strange fancy had made him say that other than sheer nervousness, as Dizzy didn't seem to be able to talk and concentrate her power at the same time. However, he realized he had said the right thing. The wings actually paused in re-fluffing, and Dizzy's eyes dimmed yet again as her look blanked. That was something she hadn't heard before. It made her wonder if a human actually understood why she did what she had done in Adelwolf, as terrible as it had been. While Ky was feeling sweat starting to mount on his brow, he realized he had found a niche. She was listening to him now.

"I don't know what Testament told you, but you have to understand that Gears did a lot of bad things to humans. It wasn't necessarily their fault or their desire, but it happened anyway and most people think they did it on purpose."

Dizzy's face tightened a bit at that, although not the same as before. Her wings again flared, and the two faces emerged, but only their faces.

"I had never hurt anyone! I never tried to hurt anyone! I only wanted to live as all of you do! But you dragged me out of my home, locked me up in the forest, hit me, insulted me, tortured me…and all because of how I was born! You all wanted me to die just because of what I am! That's not fair!"

"No, no it isn't." Ky answered, trying to keep a calm and even tone. That was the best way to calm another down when their volume was starting to rise, after all. "It wasn't fair, and I'm as guilty as the rest of mankind in regards to that. But you have to understand, better than anyone, that when someone is scared for their lives they do a lot of irrational things, my lady."

Suddenly, the faces slipped back into the wings. Dizzy looked up and blinked. For the first time, the Gear looked honestly stunned.

"Wh…what…did you call me?"

Ky, on his part, was barely able to keep a straight face. He was truly surprised at what he had just said. He hadn't been thinking and it sort of just slipped out, but there was no mistaking it. He had used that title, and it was likely something the Gear had never heard in her entire life.

"I said…'my lady'."

"Your…lady?"

"It's a title a gentleman uses to show respect to a woman." He said, not knowing that he actually turned a shade pink on saying that aloud.

Now the Gear truly did look confused. She actually held one of her hands to her lips and stared at Ky with an expression that was equal parts astonishment and surprise.

"Then you…respect…me…?"

Ky turned a slight shade redder. "I do. That is…I respect all women. I try to, at least. That goes for whether they're human or-"

The captain was cut off by a sound of a cosmic tearing. Instantly, his red look turned pale. He knew what that sound was. The unmistakable noise of time-space magic, in particular the kind that he had heard Testament use before during warps. He realized he had taken too long. His initial warp had only gotten him out of the area, but left to his own devices he had to have summoned enough energy for another warp. Dizzy herself looked up in alarm, but not as much as Ky was showing. She recognized the sound even better than him. Both turned their heads to one side and watched as a blood-red trace was painted in the air before it opened like a curtain.

Giving a gasp, still smoldering and beaten from his encounter, the white-skinned Gear half-fell through the opening and collapsed to the ground.

Dizzy gasped and cupped her hands to her mouth. "Testament!" Forgetting Ky momentarily, she took off into the air and began to hover over to him. "What-"

In spite of being sprawled on the ground and looking unable to stand, the Gear let out a groan and managed to spit out audible words. " _Him_ … He did it…"

The blue-haired Gear slowed on her approach. "Who? Who…"

One pale hand shot up and managed to point an accusing finger at Ky. The captain himself went rigid, feeling as if Death himself had just declared a judgement on him. Testament's head weakly rose enough to see one hate-filled eye aimed at him, and Dizzy spun back to him.

"Typical human…always setting traps, just like back in the Crusades… He and the humans from the Cathedral…are working together… They ambushed me…so they'd be free to slay you together… I can sense Frederick near… No doubt regretting attempting to fight you… He's with them. They're bringing more humans too, I'll bet."

The wings flared again. The wraith, on emerging, immediately began to brandish the long scythe as well. The skull mask it wore glared at Ky with absolute hatred and a desire to kill.

However, the goddess was different. Rather than give him the same cold, stern glare, she was cupping her own hands to her chest, and seemed torn, glancing between Testament and Ky with a slight hurt expression.

Ky took that as a sign of hope. _She's divided…_

"That's a lie." He responded. "No one's here except Sol, myself, and the others who agreed to help her."

Testament snarled. "You…helping a Gear. That's rich." He looked back to Dizzy. "I told you this man is a butcher of our race. Destroy him or he'll destroy you the first chance he gets. Then blow up the Tiergarten Reactor and we'll be gone. We have to move now. Everything in the plan has fallen apart… Human authorities will be here any moment. Their spammers have to be tracking us by now…"

Luckily, this didn't increase Dizzy's resolve. While the wraith lengthened his scythe and seemed ready to cut down Ky where he stood, the goddess only looked more anxious, especially at the mention of Tiergarten Reactor, before she focused on Dizzy. The look was determined, but it was not one that was pushing her to kill but rather to defy. Dizzy herself trembled a bit, looking between the two as well now and quivering slightly.

Emboldened, Ky went on. "You can't do that. You'll kill millions of innocent people, and I think you already know that."

"You're going to lecture us on who we should let live? The one who executed so many of us without an ounce of pity? You, the one who sees us as one of your genetic mistakes that needs to be blotted out of history?!" Testament managed to shout with sudden violence. At once, however, he winced and recoiled, the shouting costing him.

"I don't deny that, but mass killing of one species isn't an excuse to kill another!" Ky retorted. "Especially not in a time of war! Whether they were under the power of a Command Gear or not, Gears were trying to kill mankind! We had to fight or die!"

"And nothing has changed since then…" Testament hissed as he bowed his head in agony. "You still force us to kill you to survive…"

"Things only haven't changed because not enough people are willing to _make_ them change. I am now, but _you_ aren't." He looked back to the blue-haired woman. "You can call me a murderer, a butcher, and executioner, or whatever you want; because it's true. I did kill a great number of Gears and I made it a point of trying to kill every one that I could. But by the same token," He pointed his own finger down at Testament. " _He_ killed a great number of humans and made it a point of trying to kill every one that _he_ could. And that was after he was born human himself. If you refuse to listen to me based on my…my…"

He swallowed a bit, hating to admit this next part.

"My _sins_ …then you can't listen to him either."

Testament's hand clenched into a fist. "Curse you, wretched human… You're actually trying to turn our own kind _against_ one another…? Listen to him…! He'll say anything to use you! To save himself and his wretched race! His very faith believes us to be devils incarnate! Mistakes before God that should die!"

Dizzy didn't change. She only looked more conflicted than before. The two wings continued to hold their positions, though: one wishing to slice Ky apart and the other telling her to hold.

"You've obviously seen 'good' in him, my lady." Ky went on, staying calm. "To the Gears, he's a hero. Just as I am an abomination to Gears and a hero to mankind. And he's done a great thing in keeping you safe and protecting you, because you are someone who deserves to be protected and delivered from that torture you went through."

Testament closed his eyes and grit his teeth. "Damn…you…" Ky had chosen his words well. The Gear couldn't contradict him without making himself the villain and supporting him. As a result, he bought what he wanted more than anything right now: Testament's silence.

"But where we differ is that I'm able to see past that now. I can see that Gears just wanted to survive and have a place in this world, the same as mankind. They want the dignity of being able to live and choose for themselves. I can see now, and live now, in an era where the Crusades are over. To him, they never stopped and they won't stop until every last human is dead. Do you share that vision?"

"She has no choice…!" Testament spat as he struggled to rise. "None of us do! This is what you forced on us! Every last one of your race!"

"Not every last one!" Ky shot back; his own volume rising. "I'm willing to accept a world where Gears and humans live side-by-side! Me! The 'great murderer'! And I'm not alone! Sol may not be stronger than you, but he could have killed you when you fought him and you were still holding back! You know that's true!"

Dizzy's eyes shimmered. As young and inexperienced as she was, she seemed to realize that was indeed the case. It made her uneasy, but it also proved Ky's point.

"There's more than that! The pirates with us see that you deserve a chance at life! Their first mate told us she saw sadness in your eyes back at the Cathedral!"

The Gear looked up with a start at that, her mouth hanging loose. The two visages again sank back to their heads into her wings.

"M…May?"

"That's right, Dizzy! I'm here!"

Now the Gear gasped in such alarm that the faces vanished completely, returning to wings. Ky himself reacted in an amount of surprise, still not able to sense incoming individuals, as he and both Gears with him looked to the side at the open unfinished stairwell. Gasping a bit, no doubt from having to drag her anchor the whole way and make more than a few physical leaps to scale the half-destroyed complex and get to their level, was May. Ky was only upset that she was even there for a moment, as he realized her being there could really help. She stopped at a distance, however, bending over and gasping as she balanced her anchor against herself and put her hands on her legs.

"Huff…huff…stupid stairs were missing half their steps…"

Dizzy could only stand there, nearly stammering at first. "May…what…what are you doing-"

Before she could finish, the pirate looked up, took off her hat, and waved it in her face a bit. "Phew…we can talk later! Let's just get out of here!"

Ky himself didn't interject yet, although he saw Testament tense up a bit at that. Instead, he stood and watched this play out a bit longer. After a few moments, Dizzy only looked more confused. "Get…out…? What do you mean…? I don't…"

The pirate groaned. "Do you need me to draw a diagram?" She stuck her thumb over her shoulder. "The May Ship is already on its way and we have to meet up with it! Then we'll blow the building and bust outta here in the confusion! We're on a time limit so let's get going!"

The Gear didn't move. She only looked more puzzled. However, there was something else in her eyes as she listened to this.

"You…you came here…for…for me? You want the bounty that badly?"

Now it was May's turn to blink. Her own face fell.

"Bounty? What are you talking about? I don't give a damn about the money, Dizzy! I came here to get you out! So did the captain and the rest of the crew!"

"She's lying…" Testament growled. "She's a pirate. She'll do anything for-"

"Shut up before I give you another whack, 'Dracula'!" May suddenly outburst.

Both Testament and Dizzy alike suddenly recoiled as the young woman glared at the former and grit her teeth like a vicious dog.

"Don't think that smack I gave you a while ago makes us even for England! Not by a longshot! You don't know anything about me! You don't know anything about _anybody!_ All you do is sit around saying every human is bad! All of them want to kill you! All of them hate you! All of them are rotten! Well let me tell you something, asshole! The way I figure it, for all your talk about how humans keep judging Gears and condemning them, you're jumping to a whole lot of conclusions yourself! I'd say Dizzy'd be no better with you than us! Either way she gets paired with people who want her to kill everyone else, am I right?"

For a moment, the pale-faced man glared at May as she started to retort to him, getting his strength back to reply. Yet Ky was rather pleasantly surprised to see her conclusion made that glare evaporate. The Gear's eyes actually widened slightly, seeming to have never thought about that before. And now that he was thinking on it, he stopped straining for the moment. His face actually calmed and straightened a little. And in that pause, May was free to look back to Dizzy.

"We're only here for _you_." She spoke more calmly. "Come with us. The May Ship isn't licensed, and after this blast no one will know where you want. We'll make a clean getaway and fake your death. You can go anywhere in the world. You'll be _free_ , Dizzy."

These words too seemed to sink into the Gear. At first, she looked bewildered, her mind not seeming to be able to comprehend that May had come here for her, or that this was what was going on. But when she mentioned the last parts…the ability to fake her death…to make a clean escape…to actually wake up tomorrow with no one hunting her or trying to track her down… That possibility was what made her wings actually fold at her sides. Her face was tight with emotion, as if she wanted to smile or relax at the thought but didn't dare.

She blinked.

"I…I…I don't…understand."

No one said anything. Even the falling snow didn't seem to be crunching as much from contact. The Gear looked more intently at May.

"I told you if you ever came near me again, I'd kill you. I leveled most of Adelwolf. I killed people… _innocent_ people. I'm a Gear. I'm a destroyer and a weapon of death. I'm the devil to everyone on the face of the Earth. I deceived you and I even hurt you."

She turned her head.

"And…you want to…help me?" Pause. "Why?"

She turned her head about to Ky as well.

"Why…have all of you done this? Even that bounty hunter downstairs…was this his doing? Was he in on it? All of this…for me?"

She shook her head; her red eyes drifting to the ground and staring at it.

"I…don't understand. This doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense at all."

"It doesn't have to."

Dizzy immediately looked up to Ky as soon as he said that. He was standing taller now and speaking more calmly.

"You don't need an excuse to help people. It's simply the right thing to do. It doesn't matter what you call yourself. Human…Gear…devil…angel… As horrible as what happened in Adelwolf was, it was an accident. In the end you're still innocent. If this world isn't just enough to protect that innocence, then we are."

"You missed something in all that. You're also my friend." May added. "That is…if you want to be. The offer's open right here. So come on."

She smiled and held out her hand to her.

"Let's blow off this boring ballet and raid the galley, eh?"

The Gear went still. She didn't cringe anymore, but she did look at the hand. She didn't shift her gaze. Ky held and waited, glancing only at Testament. He himself was frowning. His disapproval was clear. And yet he said nothing. He seemed to have realized that this had to be her choice in the end; that she was to the point where he couldn't force her to go one way or another. Or perhaps he just wanted to let her choose for herself, to prove he wasn't like the humans he hated.

Ky wasn't sure how long he stood there waiting. It felt like an eternity, although he knew it couldn't have even been a minute. Not with as little time as they had.

"Friend…" Dizzy finally echoed.

As she stood there, her lips quivered. The wings recoiled further as her mouth slowly began to turn. Ky had no idea when was the last time the Gear had smiled, but the odds were it was so long ago she no longer remembered exactly what it was like. But as it slowly came over her face, he couldn't deny it. He had never seen such a beautiful smile before. Never before had he seen something that looked so innocent and pure. It continued to spread until tears rolled out of the red eyes and began to stain the cheeks. The Gear's hands went up and clasped over her chest. She slowly looked up and met May's gaze.

"Is this what it feels like…to have friends?"

May didn't answer. She only smiled back.

Dizzy made a noise. Was that the first time she had ever tried to laugh?

"It's…very warm."

At long last, she took a step forward. She began to raise her hand to take May's.

That was right before her rib cage suddenly erupted from within, opening into a gaping, bloody wound right over her heart.

Ky had seen many horrors back in the Crusades, but the suddenness of what had happened, the unrealness of it all, made him go as still as a statue. His eyes widened and his mind went blank. It didn't accept what suddenly happened in front of it, expecting it to go away at any moment. That, however, was nothing compared to the horror that painted May's face as a considerable amount of Dizzy's own blood splattered over her face and chest. The Gear herself kept her smile only a moment before it faded, her look turning into one of shock. However, it had no time for agony. She didn't even have the chance to look down to herself and see fragments of her own bones poking out.

As her limbs fell to her sides, her red eyes looked down momentarily, the only sign acknowledging the now freely-bleeding hole in her chest. Yet she looked back up again soon after, staring right into the girl's eyes across from her.

May's lip began to quiver as the realization fully sank into Ky that this was actually happening.

"May…" The Gear exhaled.

Then the light in her eyes dimmed and she collapsed.

Tears gushing forth, the pirate abandoned her anchor and ran for her.

 _"_ _No!"_

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	27. Outside Parties

**"** **Outside Parties"**

* * *

Sol was secretly thankful that Dizzy had given him such a violent beating. The fact was when Ky had shown up he was still feeling rather primal and uncontrolled, and the act of her beating him around a bit had knocked a lot of the fight out of him. By the time he had freed himself and recovered, Ky was gone and he was able to tie his headband again. It made him feel a bit more pain as a result, but he was able to get moving.

As strong as he was, the man was running on fumes by now. It was only due to temporarily loosening his own headband that he was even standing at this point. It had enhanced his healing enough to at least stop the bleeding in his four limbs, but even moving around on them drove a sharp pain into him. While his older injuries had been healed further, he had brand new ones from being beaten around by the Gear. He was still stunned that the Fireseal had done so little to her. Chopping off that limb should have left her crippled for days by the pain. Instead, before the fight was even done, it had regenerated completely. It was a good thing she _was_ such a gentle soul if this was what she was capable of.

Even walking now drove a sharp stab into his legs, but he wasn't done yet. He tried to focus on what he was doing and shut out the limitations of his own body, and in doing so made himself walk somewhat casually over to where he had sliced Dizzy. There was something else he needed to get from here before he left. On arriving, he smiled a bit to see that his suspicions had been correct.

Those wings may have been raw energy, but they had to condense enough to be somewhat like matter in order to physically affect the environment with raw force. And it seemed cutting them with the Fireseal had a beneficial effect. A few burned, crystalline "feathers" were sprinkled on the ground. The intense heat from his blade must have fused them and made them tangible even after the rest of the wing faded. And based on the extension from her anatomy, he was betting there were traces of her DNA in them that could be traced to the few specks of her blood lying around. Just what he had hoped for: evidence of her existence.

Stiff and sore as he was, he forced himself to bent over and take them up…

 _"_ _No!"_

The building was designed well enough to where Sol had mostly only heard generic noise from the upper floor, which had gone silent by now. But this voice was so anguished and loud that he heard it even from the lower levels. His head looked up, glancing through the open side of the building.

But he stopped before it got too far. He spotted…it.

As his eyes brushed upward, he looked through the falling sheets of snow and just barely made out the outline of an adjoining building only the length of a two-lane street away from the new parking garage. There was a figure there, poised on the roof with some sort of weapon aimed outward, clearly having just used it.

A figure with glowing green eyes and dressed in the attire of a member of the Sacred Order.

Sol turned his full attention to the figure, but what happened next occurred quickly. While the cries of anguish continued overhead, the form quickly lowered his weapon back to his side in a cool, methodical manner before advancing a few steps to the building edge. It looked as if he planned to jump right off of it, seeming to judge where to land. A moment later, he crouched and leapt; actually launching himself, in a superhuman manner, twenty feet in the air before arcing over gracefully and beginning to descend. He stayed perfectly in a standing posture, unlike any human who would have adjusted it.

The bounty hunter had no idea what had just happened, but his quick-thinking led him to believe that something had just attacked the Gear. This individual, to be precise. He didn't know why or how or even what had been the result. Only that it had apparently done whatever its job was and was now fleeing the scene. He didn't know in what shape Dizzy was in right now or what was running through Ky's mind or, based on the sound of the tone, that pirate girl's. All he knew is whatever had made her cry out was about to vanish into the snow as easily as it had come out.

And in spite of his own bad condition, his instincts told him letting such a thing happen was not a good move. Therefore, he did something not only unorthodox but rather foolish for him in his current condition.

In spite of his pain, injuries, and weakness, he charged right at the large side opening and leapt straight out of it in a horizontal lunge. A moment later he made contact with the falling figure and aggressively wrestled into the side of the building across from him with sufficient force to punch right through the window.

Sol, addled and weak as he was, only had a few moments to make an initial assessment. Namely, he realized the body he had just tackled was rather hard. It didn't feel like flesh and bone at all but rather clothing over metal. Yet he forgot about that quickly as his arms smarted from the pain of smashing through reinforced glass. Shards of it cutting into his forearms did no further favors. Both figures fell into the structure, landing in an upper floor foyer that encompassed multiple levels. Considering how dark it was and the fact he was flailing through the air and struggling to hold onto the mysterious assailant at the same time, Sol didn't have time to concentrate on where it was exactly before both of them fell a bit longer and landed.

Much to his surprise, it wasn't against a hard floor but rather smashing into fresh water. Warm water, to be exact, and only a foot or two deep. It cushioned some of the impact, thankfully, but he still went for a violent roll, and in the process loosed his opponent and somersaulted. The sudden influx of water into his nose and ears was so unexpected it nearly made him gag, and in spite of his growing strain he coughed, sputtered, and rolled back onto his feet to quickly rise in the pool, snapping around to his unhanded foe.

Glancing about gave Sol just a moment to see that he was in some sort of grand foyer. Definitely something from the higher end district, with an elaborate fountain pouring down water over three levels in a central opening. Ornamental plants had been put around it and the architecture was made of a white marble stone, which was good because it managed to catch what little light was coming from outside and reflect it for more illumination. He was standing inside a pool which collected at the base of the fountain, and so was his adversary that had already turned to face him.

He was more than a little surprised at what he saw, and considering his life span that was saying something.

The body size was the right shape and build. The clothing was Sacred Order, no doubts there. It looks a bit newer and better quality than most of what they could get while trying to fight the Gears, but the style was the same right down to the stitching patterns. The sword wasn't the Fuuraiken, which only made sense. There was only _one_ Fuuraiken. It certainly resembled it though. Whoever was behind it was more than a master of making replicas; they were a master of swordsmithery and Sol had yet to encounter the like. It even flashed off a few sparks. Then there was the hair. A perfect copy. The exact same style as Ky Kiske's and so flawless that one would have a hard time whoever had made it hadn't gone to his barber and collected his hair bit by bit to make it. The posture was the same and so were the movements. Had it been a little darker and under a different set of circumstances, there would be no mistaking what Sol was looking at: Captian Ky Kiske.

Yet he clearly wasn't, and that was obvious looking at the face. Nothing more than a metallic shell. It bore no expression like a human but rather crude vents for a mouthpiece speaker and two glowing eyes tinted yellowish green. It looked almost something out of an old comic book or a child's drawing of a robot. Even the ear region wasn't a true ear but looked like some sort of wind-up gear.

It at once became clear why his opponent had felt so hard on crashing into it. This was a machine. But not just any machine; a duplicate of Ky Kiske. One that may have been crude in the face but was made to be such an imitation that if one only observed the movements it would have even behaved like him. A robot Ky…or "Robo-Ky".

Just seeing it alone was enough to generate some surprise, but soon Sol focused on a much better question.

 _Alright, I am looking at a robotic version of Ky. Now…_ why _am I looking at a robotic version of Ky? What's it doing here? Who built it?_ Why _did they build it?_

"Whatever you are, I don't suppose you'd like to tell me why you're here, would you?"

The robot didn't respond. Instead, shifting one foot back, pulling an arm behind it, and crossing its imitation Thunderseal in front of it as if it was getting ready for one of Ky's own thrusts, it readied for battle.

"Didn't think so." Sol said with just a hint of a smirk as he began to ready himself. He supposed he should have expected that. He had no idea what this thing was, but the fact it was skulking around out of view meant that whoever had sent it hadn't wished it to become public knowledge. And now that it was, he presumed that it was going to kill him to make sure he didn't share its existence with anyone else.

He also realized now wasn't the best time to be getting into a fresh fight. He was still barely holding himself together after the fight with Dizzy. He didn't dare loosen his headband again. Not so soon after tightening it. He might rip the thing off and, afterward, he might rip apart the entire block. Even if he didn't, he wasn't focused enough to use his increased power effectively. It might end up being a hindrance more than a help, and he had a feeling he couldn't afford to make mistakes against this machine.

After all, if what he heard meant what he thought it did, then that scream signified that the machine had…

His thoughts trailed off as the machine lunged at him. Apparently, the one thing the robot hadn't imitated was Ky's penchant for chivalry. Hoping his body could hold out a bit longer, he braced for impact.

* * *

May's mind was still trying to accept what had just happened as she ran up to Dizzy. She had no room to focus on Ky or Testament or whatever they did. She couldn't believe it. After everything they had done, all that they had gone through, all of their planning and scheming, all of the gambles they had taken…it couldn't end like this. She had to be seeing things. She was dreaming. She was having a nightmare…

Yet the snow continued to feel cold and real as it splashed against her cheeks, and Dizzy continued to lie sprawled on the ground, rapidly tinting the snow piles around her a bright red. The wings didn't reform and her face was frozen in that horrible look May had seen many times in her career as a pirate. The lifeless look of a dead body still trapped in the final moment in which it had perished. She could smell the scent of burning arising from her chest as she neared. The horrible stench that came from an electric burn with the scent of metal in it. She could see the plumes still arising from her gaping, bloody chest.

She was down next to her in an instant and feeling for her neck.

"Dizzy! Dizzy, no!"

Nothing. Anyone could have told her the same without checking. All they needed to do was take one look at her chest. There were pieces of her heart literally protruding from the remains of the rib cage. When May knelt down next to her, she could feel her warm, fresh blood soaking through her dress. She grabbed her shoulders, but she didn't do anything else. She didn't try to lift her and she didn't shake her. Why should she? Such would have been the supreme act of useless denial. The Gear was dead. The only life she had in her now was the bit of life the body clings to even after everything is over, as the cells and organs slowly shut down and it begins the long process of rotting away.

It was over.

May's eyes burned and soon tears started to flow freely. Seeing her like this was horrible. She no longer had her wings. Her red eyes seemed to have dimmed until they were fully human. Now more than ever she looked like an innocent, lost girl who it would have been a crime to strike; let alone murder. Now more than ever she looked the way the rest of _them_ had when Johnny found them. Frightened, helpless, and desperately seeking anywhere they could go or belong. She realized Johnny had somehow seen her looking the way she did now before he even met her. But now…

Now it didn't matter.

The snow crunched next to May. She turned and looked up, seeing Ky standing there staring down over her. It was odd. Everyone in the world knew Ky who had any access to media. He was the hero of the Crusades and the most infamous IPF officer. Nothing ever shook him up. He was always a victorious statue in a square; a symbol of victory.

He didn't look that way now. His own eyes had enlarged, and his mouth was hanging. He stood there not looking bold but looking like he was in shock, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing any more than May. The man who had once been able to charge into battle or war without fear or blanching looked "normal" now, as if he didn't know what to do. She didn't know what was running through his mind. As much as he talked about being a knight and chivalrous, perhaps he had indeed thought of Dizzy as someone to defend. But she was gone and he had failed.

Yet that look in his eyes.

It looked like something a bit more than a man feeling broken up over a personal failure…

If May had been more clear-headed, she might have actually questioned whether or not Ky had felt something more personal in all of this than defending the innocent. Yet that was far from her mind. Only grasping at straws was there now.

"Can you help her?"

Ky blinked once, as if he had been lost in a daze. He turned to May and gave an exhale. The pirate wasn't sure if it was a question or not, and she didn't care.

"Can you help her?!" She shouted, her voice turning far more desperate and nearly crazed. "You're a master of magic, aren't you?! Can't you save her?!"

The captain hesitated again, looking like he was put on the spot. He blinked again, then shook his head, slowly coming out of it. "No…no, I'm sorry, I can't."

"I thought you were one of the best in the world!"

"It…it doesn't work like that!" He began to shout, recovering more fully. "You specialize in one field! I specialize in lightning magic! I'm not a healer! But…" He swallowed, his pallor dimming. "But even if I was, it's hopeless. No healer in the world can save someone from this injury. No piece of medical equipment the IPF has can do it either. I'm sorry…" He blinked again, turning back to her.

"I'm…I'm sorry…" He repeated. It sounded almost as if he was apologizing to _her_. "She's gone."

May's face began to tighten again. Her hands balled into fists. She glared at Ky, but deep down she knew that was pointless. Being angry at him was pointless and would change nothing. She might as well have asked some bum on the street to turn water into wine. Besides, as she sat there, she realized that Ky's face was tightening as well. The man was actually starting to shake. As emotionless and formidable as he was supposed to be, he was actually starting to break down staring at her.

Yet the pirate didn't care. She looked back to Dizzy. She knew they couldn't stay there. In minutes the truck would be there, and if they weren't on it they'd blow up along with the building. But she couldn't move. She couldn't leave after all this. Even if it was already over, she couldn't just let it end here. Not after everything they had been through. All Dizzy had ever wanted was to live in peace. She never wanted to hurt anyone or be the same kind of monster the rest of her ilk had been. She just wanted what everyone wanted. May could have given that to her, but she had failed. What would happen to her now? Could they even leave her here? If they did, she was going to get dissected and put into petri dishes like she was a scientific oddity. The rest of the world would never see her as anything more than that…more than a demon… She didn't deserve that. No one did…

At last, May's mind began to shift. Her thoughts had begun to turn to anger, as she stopped focusing on what had just happened and focused more on who or what had done this, when they were interrupted again.

"Sheesh, how long does one have to wait to hear 'Is there a doctor in the house'?"

The voice was loud and resonating; almost on the same level that Dizzy's own had been. As a result, May looked up to the source at once. Finally, her eyes glanced around the area on doing so. Ky, obviously, was still right next to her. Yet she also got a look toward Testament, having nearly forgotten about him at this point. He hadn't moved from his spot, although she saw that his head snapped up. She couldn't be sure through the falling snow, but while his face was tight and grim she swore she almost something sparkling in his blood red eyes. But it wasn't long before what alerted them had their undivided attention.

While that voice had been as clear as if it had been right next to them, the source only appeared a moment later near the stairwell, suddenly opening the door. Out of all the individuals that could have emerged, May would never have expected what came through. It was a lanky, tall figure; probably eight feet at minimum though May couldn't tell based on how he was hunched. Between his nice brown dress shoes, pressed pants, collared shirt and tie, and large white coat he wore with a few black fixtures and straps for added style, one would have mistaken him for some sort of professional. That was only accented by the fact he had some sort of large, long staff-like cane at his side and a black bag that resembled a doctor's medical bag from old cartoons.

Yet where that image was ruined was on his head, which was wearing, of all the odd things in the world, a paper bag with a hole for one eye.

He came forward, taking only a second to shut the door behind him. He spoke rapidly with a tone of bravado, as if he had just walked onto the set of an old sitcom rather than real life.

" _Then_ I would have been able to snap that door open and proclaim: 'I'm a doctor!' And that would have been priceless! Not right now, of course. Everyone's too worked up. But you could have looked at it later and it would have been fine. Anyway, no time for chatter; there's patients to tend to!"

The man was so large, lanky, and, a bit to May's unease, fast that he easily strode up to the three of them in an instant.

"Who are-" Ky began to speak out at last.

He was cut off as the man put out a hand and pushed on him, and, to May's surprise since she knew just how strong Ky was, the captain went a bit wide-eyed as she found himself easily pushed five feet away on the snow by the giant's reach.

"What're you-" May began to speak up as well, only to be cut off just as easily when his hand came around and did the same to her, pushing her clear of Dizzy with one easy gesture. The mere move let her know just how powerful this man was. She felt as light as a block of balsa wood compared to him. Yet oddly enough, her grip wasn't painful or rough. It gently put her to one side.

"Need a touch of room here…" He mused aloud as he set his bag down along with the cane.

Only now did Testament suddenly speak up. "Who are you? What are you doing?" He choked out. "Get away from her!"

"No need to shout, my good man." The paper-bagged individual answered as he cracked his knuckles before reaching over and breaking open the bag. His hands soon began to move as fluidly as water down a stream, reaching in and immediately pulling out a doctor's head lamp, fastening it around the paper bag, and then emerging with some medical tools. "Don't distract me. Time is precious."

May blinked again, and she wasn't alone. Ky also looked terribly confused at this sudden appearance. "Wait…I'm with him, as weird as that sounds… Who are you and what are you?"

Only here did the figure pause.

"Miss, correct me if I'm wrong, but you need a doctor to take care of this young woman, yes?"

The pirate found herself stunned to suddenly be addressed. Even turning that paper bag "eye hole" toward her unnerved her. Especially since there was something oddly familiar about that voice…

"Well…uh…yeah, I guess, but-"

The head swiveled to Ky so rapidly it was as if it was on an axle. "And you, young man? You're of the same mind?"

Ky actually recoiled a bit. He stammered a moment at being put on the spot. "Well…y-yes, but that's pointless. There's no way she can survive-"

"Hey, who's the doctor here?" The tall man answered with a sitcom-like chuckle, cutting him off before spinning back to her. "Well, if that's all well and good, then I'll trust you both to stay clear and to keep your likewise-seriously-injured friend over there from getting in my way."

"Wh…what?" Testament spoke up in a stammer, clearly as off-put as them. "I'm not their friend, and what do you think you're going to do to her…?!"

"Save her life, if I can stop answering stupid questions for five minutes…" He muttered before he immediately dove into her. He immediately began to prod and pull around the wound, pulling out fragments that were loose in terms of clothing. Not long after, one of his hands seemed to float back to the bag and pull out some ties and clamps, which he worked back over her to start sealing off where she was still gushing blood.

May didn't know what to say. She had no idea where this man had come from, but she knew the same truth that Ky had told her: nothing was going to save Dizzy now, Gear or no Gear. Yet she didn't know what had come over her. She didn't know what this…thing…was supposed to be, but even if he was the greatest doctor in the world he'd have no more luck saving Dizzy's life than a toddler beating on her with a plastic hammer. But maybe it was a fool's hope or optimism for no reason, but she let him continue to go over her. Something in the back of her mind, oddly enough, was willing to let him try in spite of how he had appeared.

Testament wouldn't have it. He began to grit his teeth and force himself to pull his body forward again. Yet to May's surprise, Ky actually rose and held a hand out to him.

"Wait."

"I'm not doing a thing you tell me, human… He's probably desecrating her body harvesting her organs… Get him away from her or-"

"Testament." The captain flatly stated, so firmly that May found herself actually looking up to him in surprise. It wasn't an angry tone or one he would use to dismiss someone less holy than him. It was just a firm word, and given to his prey of all things. It was enough to make the Gear pause and look to him as well.

"Let him try."

May quirked her brow. "Do you…know this guy or something?"

"I've heard recent news reports in the IPF…" Was the only cryptic response Ky gave before trailing off.

The other Gear continued to tense up, but Ky didn't have to restrain him. May wasn't sure if the captain had managed to somehow convince him through his tone of voice or if he was saving his strength, but she didn't care so long as he stayed out of things. Her focus was on the man who had showed up and Dizzy. He continued to move fluidly, almost as if he had memorized everything that he was going to do to her long before getting here and now he was just letting his hands go through the practiced movements. Not knowing anything else about him, her eyes slowly drifted to his bag and the cane, trying to make out anything else.

It was then that she noticed it. The cane wasn't, in fact, a cane at all. It was a long staff with a guarded blade on the end of it. It looked almost like a spear.

Or, to be more precise, a giant scalpel.

Her eyes widened on the realization. She only knew one person in her entire life who went around holding a giant scalpel, and he was just as tall and as lanky as this man was. It couldn't be…

Before she could voice her fear, he looked up.

"Some sort of electric burst ripped through her chest so hard that it shredded her heart into six pieces and blew out her ribs. It broke in through the back at any angle so it missed her spine, for what it's worth… She'd be a hopeless case if she was a human. But assuming that it takes at least ten minutes for the brain to start dying and I start simultaneously putting her chest back together while doing CPR…possibly. I've done quite a few miracles in my time but this will be a new record for me. Let's hope I really _am_ magical…"

"We have to jump off of this building into a passing dump truck in…" Ky spoke up, glancing to his timepiece. "…Two minutes or we'll blow up along with this building."

In response, the paper-bag-headed man cracked his neck before he dove back into his medical bag, this time also snatching up the scalpel with one pinkie finger, and then going back to the Gear. "If you never challenge yourself, you'll never get anywhere…" He muttered as he dug into her. May had to admit, the blood _had_ seemed to stop flowing from his ties in spite of the fact her heart was literally shredded.

On seeing the scalpel go up, May began to rise. "Wait-"

"I'll have to ask no one to give me any distractions for the next two minutes if you expect me to be 'far enough along' with her that she'll have a chance of being revived after that jump, and I still won't be done." He cut off, his tone getting more strained as his fingers flew. "Judging by how long it took for me to get here, I've got six minutes to start getting air to her brain and that's going to be a bit hard with a torn pleural cavity and a burst heart. In the meantime, all of you need to stay back and pray that Gears are far more resilient and faster healers than girls who look the same as her. It probably also wouldn't hurt for all of you to start wracking your brains for where I'm going to find a blood donor for a Gear to perform a transfusion in six minutes."

"Do better than that."

Suddenly hearing Ky speak again caused both May and Testament to look up, but the captain was no longer staring at them. He was looking back at the garage, in particular underneath the ramp that provided a roof down into the lower, covered levels. His face had tightened again. As his eyes stayed focused on that point, May saw him slowly squat and reach out for his sword. It was far away from him, but that didn't matter. She let out a little yelp as a bolt of lightning suddenly snapped out of his hand toward it, immediately morphing the blade into the same energy. A second later, the beam recoiled, but as it dimmed it revealed the weapon was now in his hand as he rose.

She didn't understand that now that Dizzy was down, Ky's ability to sense incoming electrical impulses from muscle fibers was back. Hence, she was rather surprised when she looked to the overhang herself and watched a pink-haired, one-eyed, one-armed woman dressed as a samurai emerge.

The woman looked so cold and hard that the pirate recoiled just from seeing her glance in her direction. Her eyes quickly went over the entire assembly, looking to Testament, then to May, then to the odd doctor who never even looked up from his work, then to Ky, where it held a moment or so, and finally to Dizzy.

On looking at Dizzy, she stared for a long time. Her one hand clenched into a fist so tight that, even with the sound of falling snow and the distance, May swore she could hear it. A fire went into her remaining eye. His face quivered from the tightness of her teeth clenching.

Her arm suddenly went behind her and grasped an unseen sword handle, and she drew it out with a sharp flash. She held it underhand before her while Ky raised his own sword.

"Get away from it." The woman coldly ordered. "All of you. Now."

May was stunned at the sudden order, but Ky, even more to her surprise, quickly stepped in front of Dizzy and the doctor and held his blade up at the ready.

"Don't take one step closer. I am authorized to use lethal force on you."

"If you want me to kill every last one of you to get to her, I have no problem with that." The samurai answered. "But I'm taking her."

"She's been mortally wounded. It'll be a miracle if she even survives this."

"That doesn't matter to me." Her tone dipped, becoming a mixture of grave and furious. "That man is here."

May couldn't see the confusion on Ky's face, although he registered it. "Who is?"

"He wants her. He doesn't care if she's dead or alive, no matter if she's more valuable alive." The woman went on. "He'll come for her. And when he does, I'll be the one that has her. He'll answer me everything I want to know for her. Why my country. Why my people. Why we had to die. Why I had to spend my life literally half a woman. And then I will decide whether or not I will take everything he took from me."

Ky hesitated only a fraction of a second before he retorted fiercely.

"You're not taking one step closer to this woman, and I'm not giving you to her alive or dead. You're a murderer and a madwoman, and you've escaped IPF custody once and made people pay with their lives for it. Throw down that weapon this second or I'll carry out your execution right here."

The samurai didn't even hesitate or say another word.

Suddenly, the sleeve of her severed kimono flew forward and, like it was being launched from a gun, a razor sharp metal claw on the end of a thick chain flew out for Ky's neck. The move was so fast that even he, a man who could read muscles the second they twitched, barely brought his sword up to block in time. Yet to May's shock, the claw lashed around his sword and, with surprising force for such a small woman, the samurai snapped her arm back, yanked him clean off of his feet, and sent his body hurtling right toward her as if he was nothing more than a harpooned fish on a line. The pirate let out a small gasp as he saw how fast and rapid she moved, bringing up her katana to slice through his gut and kill him with her first move.

As great as Ky was, she barely saw him twist his sword free in time while planting his feet, now standing right in front of her. As he swung to one side, the blade went up and shreds of fabric from his coat went everywhere, but it appeared to just miss the man himself. Yet the samurai realized that even faster, for instantly she was on him, moving like a blip of light as her katana danced over her head, swung and inverted on her wrist one after another, and sliced out for his neck region. The man barely had time to bring his blade up to parry, and was soon on the defensive as he was forced back by her blows. Finally, she dug in for a slice meant to push enough to clip his carotid. He brought up his sword to block, yet even though she had one arm and he had two, May still saw him struggle to hold her back, especially as his footing slid on the snow they were surrounded by.

His face nearly blanched, but in the end managed to tighten and glance just slightly to the others.

"Take her and go! I'll handle this!"

* * *

Millia didn't remember the last time she had been in so much pain before. The only good part was that she could feel it over every part of her entire body. The meant she was not only still alive but not in pieces either.

The woman didn't know where she was or how long she had been there. She assumed she had been unconscious at least for a little while, and when she opened her eyes and got enough of her wits to start processing her location she found herself in an alleyway of some sort. Based on the piles of rubble to the side of her, she assumed she was still near the parking garage.

She tried to recall how she had gotten here. The last she had seen, the entire building above her was beginning to collapse. In an instant, there was a deluge of rubble between her and Jam, but her mind had no time to worry about what had happened to her. The falling building section threatened to bury her alive. An instant later, she felt her stomach do a loop as her hair lashed out for the nearest window frame, seized it, and flung her out like a pellet in a slingshot. All she remembered was noise and violence after that, but considering the increase of pain she was in she assumed her body had smashed into the adjacent building.

The fact she was alive right now gave her little relief. It took her only a little while to realize what had to have happened. She had not consciously brought herself out of that building.

Her hair had done it automatically, against her will.

The thought filled her with no small amount of unease, but that was the least of her concerns right now. She had no idea how many of her bones were broken, but if she had to place a guess based on her pain, she'd assume about a quarter. Her whole body felt stiff and battered. If she moved anything she felt her insides twist and go into agony. Her dim vision, looking over what was left of her, saw her clothing ragged and torn and her body mottled with bruises and blood. No compound fractures other than her hand, it seemed, but only one of her legs felt like it would hold any weight.

She looked up, struggling to see ahead of her. Her face was swollen and puffy now, feeling hot with inflammation. She could barely see the rubble she had escaped. Her mind, surprisingly, turned aside from her own survival for a moment and thought of Jam. A lot of the building appeared to still be standing, but there was no telling if she had managed to withdraw to that portion or been buried under the rest. She nearly called out…

Yet she realized doing so was pointless. She was barely conscious, and still exposed and beaten more than half to death. She couldn't help Jam at this point if she was in trouble. She likely couldn't even save herself. Fleeing was pointless. The police would be there any moment and drag what was left of her to jail, and she had no strength to fight them or anything else anymore.

Yet she knew survival too much. She knew staying alive in spite of anything else. With that in mind, she somehow pried herself up and forced her good leg beneath her. Pushing her body felt like trying to lift a ton with one limb, but she somehow got her arm with the busted hand around with enough leverage to start pushing herself up. Enough to get onto one knee, at least. Gritting her teeth, for every move was further agony, she started to push herself on.

She heard a rattling behind her. Instinctively, she turned her head behind her.

Her swollen eyes enlarged before she let out a hiss that sounded like a groan.

His own clothing covered in filth and torn, his hair stained with blood and hastily swept aside, needing to brace himself against anything he could find, was Venom. The assassin only looked half conscious, but what was present of his wits was focused on her. It was only semi-aware, but what was there was focused hate. Heaving, sounding like one of his lungs had been pierced, he stumbled over the rubble and tried to drag herself toward her.

 _You're kidding me…_

Beginning to pant as well, Millia spun around and furiously tried to drag herself away. It was the most pathetic she had ever looked, half-crawling as best as she could in a vain attempt to escape him. But he wasn't much better, almost gasping, trying not to trip over trash, and struggling to keep one arm in the air wielding the sad, broken remains of half of his pool cue. The two engaged in this painfully slow chase for a few moments. Grunting and rasping, Millia tried to drag herself out into the open part of the alley. In spite of her busted arm, she forced her hand to grasp an old paint can and feebly toss it behind her as she went on. As miserable a defense as it was, Venom, not seeming able to move one leg at all, still snarled and angrily batted away at it with the cue, almost losing his balance. His other arm had to have been busted and barely good for balance, much less everything else. She actually gained some distance from this.

In retribution, he lashed out forward and swung the cue at her back. Unfortunately for him, Millia let out a cry and rolled one way, letting him hit nothing. Hissing in anger, Venom struggled to compensate, only to stumble and collapse onto all fours. Millia tried to form a hair spike to finish him, but it was no good. She was so battered she couldn't focus. As a result, the man collapsed and ragged swung at her, desperately trying to hit her. Millia, on her part, squirmed as best as she could. The flimsy blows ended up smacking garbage cans nearby and the pavement a few times, as Venom, hissing and spitting, struggled to get up to finish her.

"You're not getting away…" He gasped. "Not this time… Not this time, you bitch…"

Millia grit her teeth and managed to lash her hair out around a block of wood. The grip was pathetic, but she yanked it forward and intercepted the latest strike from Venom. He was so weak merely hitting the cue knocked him back and on his rear end. Millia wasn't able to follow up; her hair instantly dropping the wood and going flaccid. Instead, she rolled herself onto her own rear and pushed back with her good leg rapidly, putting herself against a brick wall. Gasping and straining, she shoved her body against it as leverage, forcing herself to get up. As she did, Venom, cursing under his breath, forced himself up and back on his own good leg. After several seconds, both were standing again, albeit barely and only with one good leg, hunched over and staring at each other.

Both panted and seethed, neither one strong enough to feel confident making the first move. Finally, giving a weak moan that was supposed to be a yell, Venom staggered forward and clumsily swung the cue at Millia's head. She ducked easily and tried to counter, but with no good limbs or her hair only managed a clumsy headbutt that ended up being a lean against her opponent. Venom dropped his cue, struggling to raise his arms to seize her to throttle her or grasp her, but he barely managed to put his hands on her shoulders for a weak shove. The Russian answered by driving herself forward with a shoulder charge, trying to break his nose, and ending up dully smacking his own shoulder instead. Both wobbled and wavered, but what strength and senses were left in them were focused in animosity toward each other.

Yet before either of them could make another move, they were interrupted by a voice. Specifically, a rather loud sigh.

"I don't think I've ever seen anything more pathetic in my entire life. Please stop. You two are making me sick."

Millia looked as if someone had just driven a knife into her back. In spite of her cold, emotionless, and fierce demeanor, all color drained from her face as she gave a visible tremble. She wasn't alone. Venom was no different. Both of them looked as if the Grim Reaper himself had just ran his bony fingers down their spines. Forgetting each other completely, they turned to the end of the alley.

A tall figure in a long coat was there. The alley was so dark it was hard to make out his features exactly, other than the fact he was a solidly-built piece of firmly-toned muscle. He was poised practically like a model from a fashion magazine, although the facial features were impossible to make out. What was clear was that his hair was swept forward and hanging out over his face in a wind-blown look, and his beard was trimmed to be sharp and angular enough to stand out even as a silhouette. He seemed to be sporting a pipe, holding it to his teeth and puffing away. The red coals from it cast a rather burning glow that reflected off a set of circular glasses.

Yet after he was done puffing a cloud of smoke and pulled it away, the red glow didn't dim fully. It seemed like it had been caught in the individual's eyes and continued to radiate.

Both Venom and Millia faced him. Their looks were like a pair of children who had just been caught fighting and their father had walked in on them. Venom let out an audible swallow.

"Slayer…"

"You seem surprised that I'd come to see you personally, Venom." The figure answered. "And I'll admit, normally I wouldn't trouble myself. But Sharon wanted to catch the Tiergarten Performance of 'The Nutcracker'." He sighed and shook his head. "Frankly, I stopped bothering to see the performances after Vainonen passed on. Everything since then has been…underwhelming. Yet once you're married," He let out a little chuckle. "You quickly find your favorite pasttimes become your wife's if you want to stay happy. Anyway, with the show cancelled, I was free to check in on this business of you not returning to the nearest guild when I called like the rest of those with you. And what do I find?"

He sighed tiredly.

"Is this _truly_ what passes for a member of the Assassin's Syndicate these days? This alone is making me rue retirement."

Venom was silent. Millia knew why. No one who knew the slightest thing about Slayer's real power in the syndicate bothered to contradict him outright. Those who didn't know didn't last very long. He moistened his lips. "Slayer, let me explain-"

"Oh, there's nothing to explain, Venom." The figure took another puff. "I've made several calls to you informing you that I am resuming management of the Assassin's Syndicate and that I have a great deal of affairs to get in order. You told me the Syndicate wasn't at its best without Zato-1. It's more than just not 'at its best'. It's atrocious, it's disgusting, it's undisciplined, it's unrefined, and frankly it is an embarrassment and a mockery of what I invested over 200 years into. When I retired, the Syndicate was the picture of an efficient and dignified organization. We had standards. We had codes, rules, and regulations. We had expectations for how new members were to behave and conduct themselves. We moved so efficiently and properly that there were cities on Earth where we were practically welcome. We were gentlemen in a world of gangs run by pigs. Now I see we're merely an exclusive club for whatever serial necrophiliac is wanting protection to indulge their fetishes. Do you have the _slightest_ idea how long it will take me to restore our reputation from that sort of slander? Reputation, Venom, is something that you spend an entire lifetime earning and defending. Even completely replacing the entire syndicate isn't going to recover that."

"But I-"

 _"_ _I wasn't finished."_

Millia hadn't even been the target of that comment, but those three words felt like they nearly peeled some of the skin off of her body. Venom, naturally, went still as stone.

Another puff. "Now we come to you. First you trying to snub me after I gave you a personal courtesy call. Then you go around my back using my guild as your own personal army to hunt down a single target, and in the process you act more like a team of poorly trained guerillas than expert assassins. You get half of them killed and when I finally get in touch to tell you to pull back, you yourself encourage an insurrection and violate a personal directive to abandon this senseless mission…one that has consumed considerable resources and wasn't even for a fee."

The figure took a single step forward. Millia swore every shadow in the alley grew longer and darker.

"Are you seriously about to try to defend your actions on the grounds of assassinating a member who went against the Syndicate's directive, Venom? Because I seriously doubt I've ever heard of a blacker pot calling out a kettle."

Venom gave a tremble of his own, but he tightened his jaw and maintained.

"She broke the greatest tenet of the directive. She did in one of her own, and then she tried to abandon the Syndicate. I'm only doing what we're all required to do."

"Wrong." The figure flatly answered. "The greatest tenet of the directive is 'never make it a personal matter'. _You_ are guilty of that one. This wasn't about upholding the directive. It never was for an instant. It was about revenge for Zato-1, assuming you even want to still call him that at this point."

Both Venom and Millia looked up slightly at that. Another pipe puff and a sigh.

"Seems you two have been running around causing widespread havoc, alerting the police, engaging in car chases, and generally violating every last bit of a proper assassin's technique in your little grudge match against each other that you haven't bothered to read the news. Zato-1 goes by the name 'Eddie' now, which, if I'm not mistaken, is the name he gave the shadow he brought to life that I specifically warned him not to embrace. One of the survivors of his latest attack spotted him devouring half a bus of kindergartners on the Austrian border. It's clear to me at this point that the only one who destroyed Zato-1 is himself for dabbling in one of the Forbidden Magics, and I consider that Rage did the Syndicate a favor imprisoning him when she did."

Venom looked aghast. "You can't be-!"

"As for the abandoning of the Syndicate, that's a more serious matter." Slayer went on, cutting him off. "However, on reviewing the case involved and the facts, in light of the times and the reinventing of the Syndicate, I am willing to deal with this in a somewhat, shall we say, lenient manner."

The assassin looked ready to burst. In spite of his weakened state, his one good hand tightened on the cue. "Slayer…"

"Millia Rage is no longer your concern, Venom. I'll take it from here. I gave you your order to return to the guild, so I suggest you do so and leave me to try and salvage this insulting debacle you've managed to make both for yourself and the Syndicate. We'll discuss your new assignment in two weeks. Use that time to get yourself cleaned up."

Venom actually held up his cue, his face tightening. "You can't just let her get away with this! I won't just stand here and-"

 _"_ _If_ you disagree with me," The figure's voice cut like a knife. "You know the rules. Just beat me in a fight, and accept _whatever_ consequences there are of challenging me."

The man went still again. Once more, he gave a shudder. Even Millia quivered a bit. The mere thought of even trying to fight Slayer was enough to scare her; cold and ruthless as she was. The man could say nothing. After a time, he inhaled and lowered his arm. He had no choice but to accept.

"In that case, leave us. You're fortunate I still have enough clout with the Berlin Police to discuss them looking away just this once. I'll be checking on our guild branch in one hour. You had better be there when I do. Even someone as old as I am only has so much patience."

Venom didn't answer, merely bowed his head in submission. He stood still for a few seconds, not saying a word or making a sound, before he looked over to Millia. The one eye that met hers burned fiercely.

"This isn't over, Rage."

Saying no more, he looked forward and hobbled toward the end of the alley. It took him a while to move, but even though Slayer left a great deal of room on either side of him, he still took even longer to get by, trying to get nowhere near him. Yet finally, he passed and turned the corner.

Millia was left alone with Slayer.

The woman said nothing, but swallowed. Sweat began to mingle with her blood. Technically, Slayer had only told Venom to get away. It didn't mean that she was going to escape punishment. She still had committed a capital offense in the syndicate even discounting Zato-1. Yet cowering would serve no purpose, and throwing herself on her knees and pleading for mercy wasn't her way. She merely stood there.

The figure came no closer. He puffed on his pipe.

"I'm a bit surprised."

In spite of herself, the Russian looked up a bit.

"I expected you to put up a fight, even knowing it would be useless. I know that's your nature. And you're a pure sort of creature, Millia. A predator that never tries to be anything but a predator. You know you have to live, and so you fight even when death is inevitable."

Millia didn't answer. Another pipe puff.

"So why not?"

The Russian swallowed and exhaled.

"Because I'm tired of running."

The man didn't respond. He crossed his arms instead, as if waiting for more than that. After a moment, Millia gave it.

"The past few weeks have shown me something I wasn't willing to see. It doesn't matter if I find Zato-1 and kill him. It doesn't matter if I leave the Syndicate and find a new job. It doesn't matter if I go to some remote corner of the world that hasn't seen a fist-fight in a thousand years, let alone a murder. Every day…" She exhaled. "I am going to wake up and be Millia Rage. Every time I look in the mirror I am going to see Millia Rage staring back at me. I was born and raised to be an assassin. That's what I am. I'm never going to feel right holding a job. I'm never going to put someone else before myself completely. I'm never going to know what it's like to love someone and not think, somewhere in the back of my mind, there's a chance they'll kill me."

She closed her eyes and inhaled.

"…But I still want to. I want to believe I can. I want to think one day I'll just be some other woman walking down the street with the biggest thing on her mind being what book she read lately or what she'll make for dinner. I want to think one day I'll smile and laugh when I see a child playing. I want to think one day I'll actually _start_ having nightmares over the people I killed and start seeing bloodstains on myself I want to wash off. That one day I'll see life isn't just something you either defend or lose but is something precious, like everyone else sees it."

Her eyes opened.

"I guess the real reason I don't want to fight right now is because that's what 'Millia Rage' would do. Right now, the only thing I want to do is take what's coming to me, even if it's my own death. It'll be…something new."

Slayer didn't answer immediately. Millia stared back, but said no more. Another puff went on in the pipe, this one seeming to use up the last of the tobacco, for he pulled it away and reached into his pocket for a tool to start cleaning it out. While still doing so, he began to walk forward again. This time it wasn't just one step. Each move made Millia feel like a bit more of her warmth was drained out of her, but she held and waited.

Slowly, the man came up to face her directly. She had a hard time looking at those eyes as she saw their own glow be reflected off the inside of his glass lenses. She didn't even try to move her hair. She knew it was useless. Finally, he halted before her, just as he was done cleaning out the pipe it seemed. Replacing the tool in his coat pocket, he reached for a bag of fresh tobacco next. He loaded the pipe as he spoke to her.

"I talk a lot as if the Assassin's Syndicate is something that has drug me out of a well-earned retirement. Something I have to go back to when I thought I was done." He snorted. "The truth of the matter is I miss it. I've felt like something was missing in my life ever since I left it. I haven't felt like myself. It's true; for some of us, the syndicate is in our blood. It's who we are. I couldn't change that even after so long away. Poets and novelists like to make a great deal about people changing who they are. I can count how many I've run into that truly have on one hand. I've always assumed it was something that just took too much time. And if I couldn't do it, how much less someone who only gets sixty to ninety years to work on it?"

Finishing loading his pipe, he put the tobacco away and reached for a metal lighter next.

"That said, I _have_ seen people pull it off. It was likely the hardest thing they ever had to do, and it was harder than anything I ever did. _Much_ harder. So much so that most people don't even bother trying."

The lighter's flame went out, illuminating the man's face a moment as he let the pipe and took a puff or two. After getting the embers going, he flicked it closed and replaced it, then resumed his smoking. Millia had never smoked so much as a cigarette in her life, but the tobacco before her was so fine she couldn't help but admire the aroma.

"You're already a lot farther than most of the quitters I've seen. Granted, you have a very, _very_ long way to go. Still, it seems like a shame to stop someone in their journey now after having cleared the first few hurdles."

Millia hadn't looked away the whole time, but for the first time what Slayer said seemed to make her look up more. A flutter of hope went off in her heart.

The figure's stance remained firm and his look somewhat hard as he took another puff.

"You understand, of course, that this isn't a reprieve. You're banished from every city the Assassin's Syndicate operates out of for the rest of your natural life. Including this one. I'll give you six hours to shake the dust of it from the bottom of your shoes. I never hear of you coming within ten blocks of a safe house again either or making contact with any member. If we want you, we'll make contact with _you_."

The Russian gave a nod. "Understood."

"Violate those terms and I'll hunt you down myself, understand?"

A swallow and another nod.

"So long as Venom is in the Assassin's Syndicate you're off-limits to him. If he resigns, he can hunt you down all day if he likes and I won't lift a finger to stop it. If any former target's next-of-kin comes looking for you, I will refer them to you immediately. You're not one of us anymore, so I have no reason to protect you. That's your baggage. That's your sin. You have to live with it."

Millia hesitated only an instant before nodding again.

"Finally, you've gone a great deal of damage and theft from our property. I demand compensation with interest. You have one year to come up with 50,000 World dollars. I don't care how you get it; just have it in my hand a year from now or I'll be swishing your blood around in my brandy glass like a fine cognac."

The woman's eyes widened at the amount. She nearly protested it, before she quickly clamped her mouth shut and gave a stiffer nod. She had no idea how she would get that money, or how she'd even get out of town in six hours, but whatever kept her alive at the moment.

"Well, now that this is all taken care of, I'll be leaving." The figure turned his back to Millia at last. The eyes were gone, but even lurking in his shadow felt like a weight was on her. Another puff of smoke went out along with a sigh. "I think Sharon is right. I really _do_ burn through tobacco too quickly. What a joke it would be if smoking killed me…"

He took one more step, but then halted. For a few seconds, he didn't move at all. Millia kept her eyes on him but feared slightly that he had changed his mind.

In the end, he turned slightly back to her. Still concealed in shadow, she never saw his hand reach inside his coat and emerge with something until he tossed it at her. It landed at her feet a moment later. In spite of the situation, her eyes glanced downward.

A rather thick wad of German currency. The first bill looking at her was a high number value.

"I suppose if I want you to come up with that debt, I better make sure you can even patch yourself up enough to start looking for it."

Without another word, he turned and walked away.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	28. The Great Escape

**"** **The Great Escape"**

* * *

It wasn't that long into the fight that Sol was beginning to regret starting it in the first place.

The machine version of Ky was representing him in peak form. The thrust he made was perfectly executed; the kind of move Sol knew he couldn't deflect simply without moving the blade right into his side or leg. He had to bring his other hand around and swipe down with a counter strike to knock it aside. Yet just like the real Ky, the machine aborted the thrust as soon as he made contact so that only the tip of the blade got smacked away. Advancing a step, the machine, hissing and spitting like an old steam engine, brought the blade up and down in a wide, double-handed swipe, catching Sol's still deflected blade and knocking it down. Immediately afterward, it lunged and swept the sword upward, trying to slice through Sol's chest.

The bounty hunter had no choice but to retreat, which wasn't easy considering where they had landed. Moving through water was never good for one's footing. He still felt just the edge of the blade lash out across his chest. The cut itself it made was shallow, barely more than a scratch, but he still winced from the electricity within it. And the jolting pain made it harder to focus when "Robo Ky" brought his sword back and lunged forward, this time leveling his shoulder as well as bracing his blade for another strike. Clearly a power move meant to overwhelm, just like he expected from the genuine article. When Sol planted his feet to intercept, he managed to catch the blade, but he felt his arms wrenching as his body was pushed back by his opponent's superior mass.

 _Extremely bad timing for this…_

Leaving his headband loose for a time had helped him regenerate a little, but Sol was still in agony just standing his ground and fighting. No chance of trying to overwhelm his opponent in this posture. Instead, he struggled to wrench his arms to one side and get him off balance. That was useless. Just like you would expect from something made of iron, it stood too tall and formidable. It was useless to try and slide under the water either. Besides, the machine had the same posture as Ky did as well. Only one other move…

Taking a risk, Sol brought up a foot and hooked it under the robot's knee, hoping that it mimicked a real individual enough to lose its footing and falter. It did, but the bounty hunter again neglected to take into account that this thing was like Ky. It quickly compensated just as he would, and rather than going off balance with how Sol had his blade twisted, he brought it back, slicing across his knuckles. Any counter Sol might have made was cut off as he had to pull back lest his fingers get lopped off.

The robot immediately sprung on him, moving fast. It must have had enough intelligence to perceive that Sol was weakened, because it was going for wider, double-handed, overhead swings. Large and powerful and normally leaving openings, but not for someone in Sol's condition. Instead, he was stuck being battered overhead by repeated blows, meant to strain his wrists to the breaking point or ruin his balance so that a follow-up grapple would disarm him. Sol was all too familiar with it from Ky's own repertoire. The machine even somehow pumped out electricity into the moves to send out cascading sparks, and between him being slowed down by his aquatic surroundings and the electricity sent into it, Sol was struggling after only a few hits to keep moving back, trying to get to shore.

Yet right before he could possibly leap out, Sol reacted. This machine seemed to have Ky's set of moves down, which meant that it left itself open the same way he did. He knew that if he was fighting Ky, he'd go for one last strike before attempting to grapple with him, meaning he'd overextend himself. Sol used that moment to drive his weapon forward in a slashing blow for the elbow. Just as he had seen the former Sacred Order leader do when he tried the same move during a practice, the machine aborted its attack and brought the blade down to parry.

Unfortunately, it managed to catch the strike. Sol let out an audible mutter to himself. He had meant to actually cut in, but he was too battered and weak to do so. Now the machine had him braced, but didn't have the right leverage so that he couldn't wrench him out of the way. Another stalemate. Deciding to make the most out of it, Sol forced himself onto the weapon and pushed off, getting his legs up and out of the water. Unfortunately, doing so drove his insides into further pain. He almost felt he popped a disk in a vertebrae.

The "Robo Ky", on the other hand, was fresh as a daisy and sprung on him in an instant. The water did slow it down a bit, as did the step up, but Sol could barely pull himself away to avoid being sprung on; let alone strike before it advanced. And now that it was on land, it moved faster than ever, thrusting outward with the blade in numerous jabs that kept Sol well at a distance. It was all the man could do to keep pulling back from the thrusts, not able to risk taking another stab. Just like in his last encounter with Ky, the machine was using its superior blade length to keep him at a distance along with its inherit speed. Sol's own short thrusts and slashes couldn't hope to get in unless he could get his locomotion into it, but that wasn't going to be the case with him in this battered state.

Then the machine threw one better. After driving Sol back about twenty feet from the pool, it suddenly swung the blade down rather than made another lunge. The light around the blade concentrated momentarily, before a blast of electric energy erupted from the end and shot at the bounty hunter like a missile.

The man was honestly stunned. He was sure it didn't have near the power of Ky's own attack, but he wasn't willing to let it hit him either. He was forced to wrench himself to one side as fast as he could, only to overexten-leaving him open as the robot again darted forward with a follow-up stab. He had to twist an already-injured leg to the point of almost limping, but he pivoted to get out of it. It wasn't enough. He still felt a pained jolt go through his middle as the tip of the blade grazed him. He was fortunate it was there. The numbness that resulted deadened his pain a bit.

If it had hit a limb, he might have been crippled.

This wasn't good. This machine didn't just look like Ky. It imitated him in all combat respects. Not just in terms of moves and techniques, but in ways of thinking. Under better circumstances, Sol's curiosity would have gotten the better of him. Yet right now was one of those rare times he would not want to be fighting the actual Ky, and this robot wasn't much better. In some ways, it was worse. It was moving as fast as Ky but clearly had more momentum behind it due to its metallic mass, and in his weakened state Sol couldn't grapple with it. While the joints were fluid, obviously the end result of trying to make it as motile as the real thing, the rest of it was too solid to damage with physical blows. That left using his sword. Yet Sol was already in terrible shape to think about fighting, no matter the opponent. He couldn't put his own speed or agility to use unless he knew it would strike a hit. That wasn't a guarantee against someone with Ky's speed and reaction time.

All that remained was the weapon in the machine's hands.

As the robot lunged forward again, Sol suddenly took the initiative. Painful as it was, he pushed himself forward in a short lunge, twisted the Fireseal into an underhanded grip, and performed a vertical slice. The two blades connected, and the thrusting blade ended up being the one parried away. Not good enough to disarm or take off guard, but enough to put Sol on the offensive. Quickly tightening his grip and channeling his own power, his sword belched smoke from the vents before igniting in fresh heat. He immediately advanced forward in a whirling slash, raking out for the machine. It wasn't enough to make it retreat, but it still couldn't renew its own assault. It had to pause to cross its own blade to defend.

On coming out of the slash, Sol swung his blade upward, pivoting it in his grasp and holding it hilt out. Forcing himself to advance, he placed both hands on the grip and executed three rapid cross slashes while still filling his blade with power. He wasn't used to doing this with two hands, but he didn't have the power to put into the blows with one. Each strike that came down vented flames over the robot's sword. It wasn't enough to spread to the machine proper, and even if it had been it wouldn't have been enough to damage the metal chassis, but it did the work of bathing the opposing sword in flame. With that in mind he kept up his attack.

None of the slashes got through although they cast off molten sparks and bits of heat with each strike. These moves wouldn't have worked against the real Ky, and this robot was close enough to approximate it. Sol was beginning to notice it was a bit rough on reaction time and stilted in faster moves, but that wouldn't help right now, and it wasn't his intention to overpower it. His assault had the desired effect; the robot backed up one step to try and brace itself to counter. When that happened, Sol went ahead and pushed even more power into himself to perform one of his leaping lunges. He brought the Fireseal overhead and slashed it out in a massive chop as he came down.

He regretted exerting himself almost instantly. Not only did the robot only get forced back another step, but his own sides went into agony. He felt he had dislodged an already broken rib and his spine sent pain throughout his entire back. He was nearly immobilized on landing. He did the best he could with what he had done, however, forcing more fire into his blade and washing as much as he could over both the robot and his weapon. This time, the flames licked for his synthetic hair and garments, actually singing both a bit, but in the end the robot forced him off with one mighty shove, making him lose his balance and backpedal himself, before rapidly coming forward with another stab.

Sol barely managed to get his footing and started to parry the blows, deflecting not only the first thrust but two more after it. He had to keep making contact with his enemy's sword, even if he didn't have the strength for it. He had the beginnings of a plan in mind but it depended on him continuously using fire magic. He could only hope he held out long enough for it to pay off.

* * *

May's mind was a blaze. She didn't know what to focus on more: the crazy guy currently operating on Dizzy in what looked like an insane attempt to save her life to begin with, the fact that Ky had jumped in to try and fend off a psychotic one-armed lady…not to mention the fact he didn't look like he was doing that well against her…or the fact that her clock said 40 seconds before the bombs were supposed to go off. All while she was left somewhat helpless on the roof. Even the fact Testament was still there and crawling toward them was a rather low priority compared to everything else happening.

"Uh, Mr. Paper Bag Guy, I don't want to interrupt," She finally interjected, her tone growing sharper as the battle nearby began to inch toward them. "But can you move her yet? We have half a minute before this place blows!"

"And you still need to find me a blood donor, my dear." He calmly responded, although his tone was a bit tight as he kept working. "I'm already pushing my technique to the limit…"

May grit her teeth in frustration. "What's that going to matter if we don't get moving?! We need to get off the building!"

"You were planning to jump into a passing truck, were you not?"

"But…we can't take her with us! Won't it tear her up?"

"Likely, but staying here will definitely be worse."

The young woman flustered, but could say little in response.

"May!"

The pirate looked up in a flash at that. That was a voice she'd recognize anywhere; she was simply surprised to suddenly hear it coming from behind her. Instantly, she whirled around, back to the same entrance that the lanky man had appeared earlier.

While he looked rather beaten, bruised, and bleeding from a few spots, one of which he was applying pressure to, Johnny staggered in through the entryway and, in a half-stumble, began to rush out to them. May couldn't see his eyes although she figured he cast a glance at Testament, for his head went that way and he seemed to form an uneasy look, but then he focused on her again.

"What in the hell are you doing hanging around for?! Why aren't you getting out? The truck's almost here!"

Then, however, his eyes went up and spotted both the tall doctor as well as Dizzy, and a huge amount of blood soaking the snow around her, in addition to Ky fighting the one armed woman behind.

"…I leave you alone for fifteen minutes and what the hell have you all gotten into?!"

"It wasn't my fault, Johnny!" May shouted back as she started to get up. "And there's no time to explain! We just…need the paper bag guy to finish operating on her!"

"Operating? May…take a good look at her…she's-"

"Just let him try! What have we got to lose?" The young woman cut off, already getting ready to move as Johnny finally stopped next to her. "Besides, we got to get away from that crazy lady too!" She turned back to the doctor. "You ready or what?"

His hands were still moving non-stop over the Gear, but they were no longer making cuts or work. They seemed to rapidly be tying and covering off things as best as possible while packing up most of his equipment. "I can carry her, but you haven't forgotten about the blood donor, have you?"

"Oh, right…" She groaned, before spinning back to her captain. "Johnny, we got someone in the crew driving the truck that's universal, right?"

"Oh, use your head, girl." The doctor answered, causing her to look back to him. "This is a Gear, not a woman having a baby. Her blood seems to have a violet shimmer to it even in this dim light. You honestly think that human blood is going to work with her?"

"Well what else do we have?! It's not like I can stop by the local blood bank and ask for…I don't know…Gear Positive or something!"

Through the midst of the whirling snow and the sound of crashing blades behind them, as well as the sounds of other noises beginning to drift in on the wind, including one that sounded like a hover vehicle of some sort, a truck horn blared.

"That's our cue, May!" Johnny shouted, still not knowing what was going on but moving over to Dizzy to help pick her up if need be. Being a pirate captain like him, it paid more often than not to just do things and ask question as to why they were so later. "They'll pull by in twenty seconds!"

"Take me!"

The cry was strained, clearly coming from someone who shouldn't have been wasting their energy shouting. Both May and Johnny looked to Testament as soon as he said it, and saw him struggling to push himself up and forward.

"You?!" May shot back.

"I have Gear blood in my veins. A type humans only record as 'unknown'…" He grunted out as loudly as he could. "Take me… Use me as a donor…"

"In your dreams!" The first mate retorted. "You want to kill us all! Besides, how do we know if you even match?"

"You don't…but I'm the only Gear you have…and as much as I hate you I want to save her… This is the only way I can…"

"Not a chance in hell! After everything you've done to me over the past year I'm never…Johnny!"

The young woman found herself cut off as the man in black dashed forward as fast as he could, reached Testament's side, and began to help him up. The Gear was just as shocked as she was considering how long ago the two had even each other a beating. Yet he merely formed a tight grin as he got him up and started walking him to the edge.

"Don't have time to be choosy, May! Hear that sound?"

The girl hesitated. In the distance through the thick snowfall, she just began to hear the sputtering of an engine. But in addition to that, she heard another more familiar sound. The hoverjets of some sort of flying vehicle were growing rather loud at this point, and getting more clear all the time. When she looked in the direction it was coming from, sure enough, a pale light was beginning to shine in the snow-filled sky.

"They either have their systems back up or they're sending in the cavalry to bomb the area just to be sure! No time left! Just chew me out later!"

The young woman hesitated a fraction of a second, but then ruefully groaned and began to hobble after him. At just the same moment, the spindly doctor finished closing up his bag, slung it over one wrist, then reached out and scooped up the Gear. He took off for the edge as well and managed to reach it even sooner than Johnny and Testament did.

May actually brought up the rear, only uneasily getting next to the paper-bag man. She thought of almost asking him if he really was who she thought, but she ruled it out. Right below, almost as soon as she arrived, she saw the headlights of the incoming truck passing through the snow. She knew the bomb would go off not long after they made their landing, and she quickly checked her time to confirm it.

She cast a glance behind her for Ky and the woman. Both were still fighting, and all while the incoming aircraft was getting so close she could start making out the spotlight. Yet there was no time to go back for either of them. They had to get themselves and Dizzy out.

Nevertheless, she found herself yelling a warning at least.

"Ky! We're leaving over here!"

* * *

The woman pushed against Ky only for a moment, before both of her getas dug into the snow and her muscles tightened. Her face never changed at all as her arm suddenly wrenched to one side, and to the man's shock deflected his blade one way. Instantly, she leapt off of the ground afterward and lunged at him, forcing him to retreat. He was too slow, however, and she lashed out with one side kick that smashed him in the neck. To Ky's stunned surprise, not only was that blow to a vulnerable spot, but it was solid and focused. He could take punches to the neck from most normal men, but this one caught him so much he couldn't breathe. He staggered, leaving him wide open for another blow as the woman finished twirling around, driving her other wooden geta solidly into his face.

The kick landed with such power that Ky was nearly knocked off of his feet then and there. She was striking with wooden, hard footwear and he was on a slick roof. Not to mention he was choking from the first hit. It took all of his focus to keep steady, but it was almost too little as, the second she landed, she snapped her sleeve up to him. Ky didn't even have the presence of mind to remember her tricks in her ring before a giant jade dragon's maw poked out from it right at him. He realized almost a moment too late it was a form of fire projector; right before a column of flame belched out for him. Stunned and still trying to breathe, he barely staggered to one side before the flames whipped over his coat. It was only due to his heavy fabric that he didn't get singed.

Instantly, the bounty hunter lunged out for him again. Ky only managed a weak rasp and didn't even have time to extinguish the flames on one of his sleeves. This woman wasn't giving him a moment to breathe. Quickly, he snapped the Thunderseal around and fired off a bolt of electricity at her, hoping to at least stun her. No such luck. Her sleeve waved in front of her legs as she barreled forward, kicking out, of all things, a tatami mat. Without missing a beat, she kept charging forward and used one of her steps to kick the mat up in her way. The bolt impacted and dissipated. After all, the straw was a perfect insulator and he hadn't put enough power into the shot to blast with force. She kept right on coming afterward; her arm reaching for her sword hilt. Ky struggled to recover enough to counter, but he was too dazed. All he could do was try to shoot back to avoid it…

Almost too slow again. The blade flashed out and sliced across his chest, opening a rather deep gash. Pain flooded Ky's senses. Only Sol or Gears had managed to get in for a closer cut, and yet he realized even now as his blood stained the snow that the strike had been aimed for his neck. If he hadn't moved, he'd already be dead. He tried to get his blade up to counter a future hit, but he was too slow again. The woman swung her head forward and smashed it into his face perfectly where the first kick had landed. Further pain flooded his senses, his time knocking him for a loop and causing the world to swirl black momentarily. He struggled to keep backpedaling, trying to get some distance, only to find another blow suddenly landing under his chin from the woman's foot. This wasn't even the geta portion, but the force was so strong his head snapped up like a ball on a string. This time, he did lose his balance; falling flat on his back.

Through his attempts to breathe, the fresh bloody injury on his chest, and his beaten head still throbbing with pain, the man was aghast.

 _She's just a human…and she can do all this? What in Heaven's name is she?!_

His magic-enhanced nerves saved him a moment later when the woman swung her blade around and dove for him, attempting to impale him through the heart. With a near spring, he rolled back, feeling his coat sliced but ultimately nothing being hit that was flesh. As soon as he rolled back onto his legs, he sprung back as he sliced outward with his longer blade. She was too fast for that, however. She had already sprung back as well, and aimed her empty sleeve at him. A moment later, a second spear like the one that had impaled Dizzy erupted from it for his right eyeball. Quickly he snapped his head to one side, just feeling the tip of it slice through the skin over his cheekbone…

Only for the woman to rush at him again. The move had been intentional; designed to have him turn his less dominant side away from her so he could only protect with his unfavored arm. As he neared in range, he had no choice but to slice outward one-handed with the Thunderseal, just catching her incoming blade and able to deflect it just enough to miss its mark. Yet not missing a beat, the woman used the force of the clash as a lever as she sprung at him, flipped over in mid-air, and brought both of her feet one after another into his head in a bicycle-kick like motion. He felt pain knock him nearly senseless with the first blow, and the second produced a slight crunching sound in his face as it knocked him back, dazzled and off guard…

Gritting his teeth, he channeled his lightning magic within his body to force his dazzled limbs to straighten, planting his legs out and locking them in. He forced his head back down and crossed his blade in front of him, meaning to weather whatever assault she gave next. Yet even as he gained his senses a moment to recover he found himself unprepared. She was still charging at him, whirling her blade around one-handed in wide slices. The arcs weren't erratic, however. They were meant to cut deep if they landed; using deep wounds to weaken him further. He couldn't afford to take them. Soon, he was backpedaling again on the slick snow, guarding as best as he could even as he struggled to stop seeing three of her floating in front of him.

Yet right as he was able to try and push back and deflect her blade, halting her assault, the woman sprang back and away from him just as rapidly, aiming her sleeve at him yet again. He braced himself for any manner of weapons or devilry, struggling hard to focus in the darkness, but in the end even his quick-acting mind only barely had time to spot the head of a firework rocket aiming at him before it fired off like a tiny missile. Not willing to see if it was simply a pyrotechnic or something more serious, he swept his blade out in front of him and discharged a blade of electricity, meaning to repel it or intercept as a shield.

But the rocket arched down at the last moment and struck the ground in front of him instead. He had a moment to notice that it really was a potent munition before the sheer force ruptured the roof of the garage and launched him skyward. Burning debris and shock force slammed into him, rattling him further.

Thanks to his abilities, however, he was still able to keep his mind working even now.

 _This is ridiculous. This woman is beyond strong, but so am I. I've had an easier time against Gears before… Why does she have me so outclassed?_

He pondered only a moment before the answer came to him.

 _Because she's a woman. The same thing happened back at the Cathedral. That's why that outlaw gave me such a hard time. Ever since that encounter with Justice I've been hesitant to go all out…because of her. Because I'm still wondering if I would have hated her and fought as strongly if I knew the truth. Because I wondered if I was really as noble or chivalrous as I thought._

He continued to fly back momentarily, before his eyes cracked open. Giving a mild grunt, his body suddenly seemed to defy gravity; flipping around in midair before touching down on the snow again. The samurai woman, who seemed to have been ready to press on until now, actually hesitated at this move.

 _This woman is a savage and mad. I can't let her hurt anyone else. It doesn't matter if she's man, woman, young, old, or whatever… She's wanting to take innocent life and I can't allow that._

She made the next move, snapping her sleeve forward. What looked like a three-hooked claw on a chain lashed out like some sort of whip for his sword; meaning to either disarm him or yank him off center and leave him open. Yet he was ready this time. Forcing himself to apply a bit more magic, he extended his blade to make contact with it. A moment later, a bolt of electricity snaked down the metal claw and chain to the woman. Amazingly enough she didn't cry out, but he saw her face visibly contort in pain as she released the chain immediately from contact, letting it slide back into her sleeve. Again, he forced himself not to let up as he lunged at her, flinging another blast of electricity at her body. She had no time for a mat from this distance. She quickly sidestepped instead. It wasn't enough to get her off guard, but it did make her pause long enough for Ky to get in range, and quickly he swiped out his own blade in a horizontal slash. Quickly she drew her own sword to guard, crossing it vertically and intercepting the slice. Applying more of his speed and power, he kept charging, slicing outward with the blade again. This time it made contact further up his sword and further down her own blade, increasing the force her wrist had to experience to protect. Her face visibly tightened at this. She began to counter, but soon aborted as Ky kept charging. This time, she had to backpedal in order to withstand him as he sliced a third time, even higher on his blade and nearly on the tip of hers. With only one arm to protect herself, he was trying to wrench her shoulder muscle. Make it impossible for her to put any more power into that blade.

Yet his last slice had underestimated her power. By striking so low, her blade barely connected with his, and she was able to leap off from her feet and backstep; pulling the sword free in the process. She instantly snapped back forward, slicing out for Ky's neck with the blade tip and forcing the man to pull back. Yet before she could press a new advantage, he countered just as strongly; simultaneously snapping his body back while slicing up with his own longer blade for her own neck. He mentally notched a small victory in his belt as he saw her pull back. Now that he was putting more power into his slices, she wasn't willing to guard against his strikes if she could avoid it. If he could just keep hammering her…

He quickly reared back to try and slice at him again in another leap, but he didn't give her the shot. Bringing his blade over into his dominant hand, he quickly snapped the sword back around in another cross slice, hoping to either force her to block again or at least to cut her off. Her underhanded grip meant she couldn't thrust, after all. Unfortunately, he realized too late that it was a feint. She quickly ducked and let the blade sail under her head, then rapidly advanced on him, now unprotected, and sliced upward. Ky's eyes widened before he struggled to backpedal, but this time it was no luck. He felt the tip of her blade first slice through his coat, then slice through the edge of his chest. It was only a light cut, but it reminded him her deadliness hadn't diminished just because he was attacking more strongly.

Now that she had him stunned, she attacked even more fiercely than before. She put her sword aside and instead swung around and thrust her getas at him. Not willing to get hit by those again either, especially now that he could feel them getting stronger, Ky rapidly crossed his sword in front of him to block the strikes. Charging with electricity wouldn't help now, though. Not with them being made of wood. As soon as she was done, she took a step back, but only to aim herself before quickly advancing and slicing out for an unprotected part of his body. He quickly shifted his grip to both hands and countered, swinging back and striking the blow away. He noticed her sleeve moved, going to try and take advantage of his deflection, but this time he was the one who reacted faster as he followed through with his slice and struck the ground, causing an eruption of lightning in a ring around him. The gesture worked. The woman only had one eye, so she couldn't shift her gaze if something came up this close to blind her. She was forced to shut it and pull her sleeve back, leaving Ky an opening. Quickly, he thrust her sword out at her, forcing her to abort her attack again and swing her blade to one side to deflect the tip.

That was the opening he had been looking for. Immediately he changed his momentum and advanced, using his enhanced speed and magic to swipe out two electrically-charged slices right for her neck. Just as he hoped, the first time she raised up to block it she had to do so with her one arm in an awkward manner, allowing him to catch her with the power and wrench her limb one way. When he brought up a second slice, she managed to block it better but he could feel the weakness in the limb from taking that jolting hit. And even though she managed to block it, she had to put most of her power into stopping it, draining her a bit and stunning her from countering. Quickly, Ky kept advancing, keeping his blade charged and doing a wide overhead chop next, forcing her to leap back rather than try and block such a hit with one weak arm. Crossing his other hand onto the grip, he swung upward next, aborting a chance for her to counter with his increased speed.

It was the crudest tactic imaginable to Ky, and yet he realized it was effective against this opponent. With only one arm and one eye, she could only afford to go for killing strokes. She lacked the power to put behind major slashes. With her own shorter and easier blade to move, his own longsword put him at a disadvantage in traditional moves. They would always be slower. Yet with only one arm and one eye, that also meant she couldn't guard that well from heavier chops and couldn't judge the distance of the blade when it was infused with electricity. She had to play it safe to stay back.

Not willing to give her a chance to adapt, Ky shifted the sword back to one hand and moved to a one-handed grasp, slicing outward with a figure-eight cutting motion on his next advance. As he hoped, the shift in posture caused her to risk moving in again when she saw a smaller opening, suddenly making her dive forward with her sword for his side. He had expected that, however, and quickly twisted the blade around and grasped it with both hands. With two arms and greater physical strength, he collided with the blade and intercepted it easily. The two locked, and he quickly pushed in as hard as he could, hoping to permanently wrench that arm.

Yet she was thinking ahead too. As soon as he applied more force, she used it to push her blade off, swirl around, and soon aim her blade right for the top of his head. To his shock, she was nearly aimed to take it off. Quickly, he jerked his blade up and swept it to the side, narrowly connecting with it just as the blade's edge made contact with the skin over his skull, and then wrenched the other way, forcing her weapon down to the ground. Still moving fast, she yanked it free, snapped around, swung the blade to her opposite side, and tried driving it in a stabbing position for his neck. Gritting his teeth, he swept back across forcefully with both arms and collided with the sword, not only stopping it but quickly pushing in a curving motion to wrench it down slightly. He saw the woman's face tighten, a sure sign of pain…

Afterward, the lightning around his blade flared, and he stepped back and snapped the sword down, sending out another bolt for her. For a moment, he caught the woman smirk as she backpedaled, but then simply sidestepped to let the blinding bolt sail past. She answered by flinging up her sleeve. A three-clawed hook attached to a metal chain came flying outward for him, trying to snag his sword…

Just as he hoped.

The woman had failed to note that his sword was still sparking, and now he let the claw grab it and pumped his full energy into it.

A white hot trail of electricity snaked through the metal claw, along the chain, and right into the sleeve of its caster. The woman scarcely had time to show surprise before her body went rigid and snapped back a good ten feet. That blast that Ky had just given her was meant to incapacitate most targets who were twice her size. Even if she had greater physical power concealed beneath her, there was no way the jolt hadn't just taken a chunk of her strength and stamina out.

Remarkably enough, she only staggered once the claw was free and recoiled to her body. While a few wisps of smoke arose from her and the ends of her hair seemed to be lightly charred, she grit her teeth, forced her legs down, and again went into a solid ready position. If she had been weakened by that, she was doing a smashing job of not showing it. She readied her blade and glared at Ky far more dangerously…

 _That had to have taken something out of her. If I focus, I can still end this without-_

"Ky! We are leaving over here!"

The man was too experienced to let the sudden voice behind him break his focus against this warrior. He knew if he looked away for an instant it would cost him. Yet he didn't need to. Hearing that voice caused him to break his warrior's mentality and suddenly realize the situation.

He had been so busy fighting with her that he had missed the sound of approaching hoverjets over his own electricity. Now that he could hear again, he noticed that the billowing snow was breaking, and emerging from it was a German hovercraft; likely a military-derived issue they were either co-opting for the opera or was licensed to the police. Its floodlights burst on both him and his opponent, actually causing her to glance up as well. As it spotted both clearly it began to slow.

 _"_ _Polizei! Jeder auf dem Boden!"_ A loudspeaker blared.

Ky's memory immediately clicked. The bombs…

As for the woman, her façade broke. Ky didn't dare look away, but behind him, in full view of the woman, those who were with him jumped off of the building. The roar of a passing diesel engine thundered far below. For the first time, he saw her face grow emotional…enraged.

"NO!"

Suddenly ignoring Ky all together, she snapped her head around to the hovering vehicle. This would have been the perfect time for Ky to strike, but the sudden surge of emotion from the woman, the expression of genuine pain and passion that streaked her face, unfortunately made him hesitate. On spotting the craft, he did something he never expected she would try. She lashed out with her sleeve, causing the same claw and chain to snake out from it and hook to one of the two side turbines. It recoiled with a sharp winding noise a moment later, reeling her to the craft.

Ky realized he too had only a second to move. The car had passed, so he had only a moment. He couldn't run after the others and this woman was so desperate she wasn't giving up…

Only one option left.

Bringing what power and speed he could to bear, he ran right at the hovering craft, which hadn't even fully realized it had picked up one passenger. Summoning all of his strength to his limbs and channeling his magic, he leapt at the opposite wing as it descended. This was insane. Even if he could make the jump, the craft might be low enough to still get destroyed. And if not, what then?

There was no time for debate. It was this or nothing. Gritting his teeth, he swung the Thunderseal around into a stabbing motion as best as he could and thrust for the other turbine, simultaneously praying to God that he hit his target, that he anchored, that he wasn't still too low to get blown up, and, most of all, that he didn't skewer the engine and cause it to crash anyway.

It was the last thing he could do before the parking garage below him thundered into a cloud of smoke and flame.

* * *

The robotic Ky thrust its sword at Sol, forcing him to not only step back but step to one side, for it sent off a bolt of electricity after it was done. Quickly advancing, it swiped its blade in two wide slashes, cutting large swaths that kept him from getting any nearer. Each one backed him up further, and finally the machine gave a hydraulic hiss before leaping at him, rearing back the blade and swiping at his head. Rapidly, Sol ducked and advanced, hoping to get under it. Sure enough, the slice went wide over his head as the machine sailed by, but when he tried to slash it from behind he was beaten to it. The robotic Ky planted its feet and swiveled around, using the wide reach of its blade to intercept the slash. Not only that, but Sol found his arm wrenched as it twisted his limb away before beginning to advance on him again.

Gritting his teeth, Sol realized he had to risk making a more dangerous move. As much as he disliked it, he let the machine continue to advance on him momentarily before it made a thrust. Quickly, he darted inward. This construct had all of Ky's moves and techniques. There was no way he could make it without getting grazed by the tip of the sword, and now was no exception. Luckily, in spite of the electric charge he got from being cut, as well as the fact he couldn't afford to take many more injuries, the blow didn't hurt nearly as much as it should have, and the machine was caught off guard. Sol actually smirked. The designers had made it so well that they included the fact Sol would never make this move against the real Ky. Getting stabbed by the true Thunderseal was far too much of a handicap.

Now that he was in close range, he quickly brought his own blade up in a swing, meaning to try and knock the machine's arms off balance. To counter, it quickly put both hands on its sword and locked in, intercepting the strike. Not stopping there, Sol quickly hammered away on top of the blade for all he was worth. The robotic Ky attempted to back up, but he kept advancing on it, staying in close quarters. With his larger blade, he couldn't get the leverage to mount an effective counterattack. Now he was betting on his superior sword breaking the machine's imitation first.

His bet was wrong. The machine didn't experience muscle fatigue while Sol was already drained. As he brought his blade down again, the machine made electricity flare from his own weapon. The connection with the Fireseal sent sparks flying everywhere, including sending one into Sol's eyes. The bounty hunter was stunned and forced to rapidly backpedal, knowing the robotic Ky would respond with a counter attack immediately. Unfortunately, it wasn't good enough. Still charged with electricity, the machine sliced a wide swath out at him. Only the tip of the blade managed to graze one of his pectoral muscles, but it sent a potent jolt into him. He gave a spasm as he pulled back further, but the damage had been done. The electricity seeping into him had partially numbed his muscles. As a result, one of his arms was weak. He couldn't block the next slice, and the robotic Ky immediately advanced while bringing his sword back to capitalize…

Quickly, Sol did all he could do to try and buy time. He swung his own shorter blade out, not for the robot but for the ground below him. The vents belched smoke, and a wave of flame erupted from the sword hot enough to actually cause the tilework to blaze momentarily. It didn't stun the machine long, however. Charging right through it, not minding the flames that not only singed its clothes but caused the lower train to smolder, the machine was on him and slashing out wide and powerful for his weak side. It hammered him two more times before it tried to stab him directly. At this point, he knew he couldn't afford to get shocked again.

Sol realized he was getting nowhere. The machine wouldn't tire and he was already at his limit. If he didn't think of something more effective very soon, he could be in real trouble. He began to try and focus on his technique. Normally he held himself back from making certain moves against the real Ky, lest he permanently injure or cripple him. Simply getting outright more brutal wouldn't help here, though. He had to think of things he would never try on him. Perhaps things that a machine itself would blunder into without thinking. The slight weaknesses there had to be that the machine retained that the real Ky did not.

Then it struck him. He knew what to do.

As the robotic Ky reared back for another stab, Sol swung his blade out again. Not once, but multiple times in a fluid figure-8 motion. He didn't aim for the machine, but rather for the ground before him. Fire again poured off of the sword and came on the ground. A sizeable blaze appeared on the floor, but he kept pushing more of his fire magic into it to make it burn hotter and brighter.

It only stunned the robotic Ky a moment. The temperature still wasn't enough to be a threat to it, so it charged right into the blaze, setting its clothing and hair fully on fire now, and stabbed for Sol. Quickly the man sidestepped, and as it tried to follow up with a cross slash he quickly swung his blade around, tapped the end, and deflected it. The machine surged forward, trying to charge into him after the block, but he kept sidestepping rather than gained distance. And as soon as he was clear, he aimed at the floor again and swept his blade up again, kicking up the fire that had begun to dim once more and burning away at it.

The robotic Ky snapped around and swung its fake Thunderseal, kicking off a spark of electrity at the man. Quickly, he dodged inward, forced to jump through his own blaze. Even with his power and mastery of fire magic, he felt himself get a little burned from the sheer force of the fire. Yet as soon as he was clear, he swung his blade at it again. He only got two off before the robotic Ky slashed out, through the fire, for his head. Rather than back up or block, he ducked so he could swing at the ground again. Moments later, the robotic Ky took off and sliced out for his head. To dodge, he was forced to dive forward in a somersault, again going through the blaze. This time, he definitely felt pain from the fire singing and burning him. Yet he grit his teeth through it as his own pants began to smolder and arrived at the other side. Biting back the pain, he snapped around in an instant and continued to pump fire against the ground.

It took even less time for the robotic Ky to go about and attack again, but Sol kept it up. Rather than fight head on, he kept dodging and evading him, all so he could stay in the same general area and put more fire magic against the ground. He began to pant and heave from both the magic and the strain. With his longer reach, the robotic Ky was never far from striking him, but he kept going. The fires raged and burned in the midst of them. The heat was so strong the tiles broke and splintered into ash. The floor below heated up until it gleamed, and continued to gleam more brightly as he kept working.

Finally, as he lashed out to try and get a bit more fire magic in the midst, the robotic Ky sliced out. This time, he was too slow from his fatigue. His other arm got struck, and the blade was still charged with electricity. A pained jolt went through him, followed by a numbness. His other arm was still recovering. He no longer had the power to block a direct overhead chop and he knew it. He only had enough for one more good strike. Realizing that was the case, he stepped to one side, so that his back was now to the fountain pool he had crashed in on arrival. Grasping his sword with both hands, he pushed all his remaining fire magic into it, causing his own sword to begin to ignite the air about it as smoke poured forth. Yet more than that, he stepped back, away from the flaming area he had generated. Finally, he kept his blade down, purposely leaving an opening.

Just as he hoped, the robotic Ky took off straight at him, peeling its sword back and ready to slice for his neck. It got one step onto the flaming area, not minding that all but its metal exoskeleton was roasted…

And immediately sank down to one ankle into the middle of it, faltering and looking about in surprise the same way the real Ky would.

One move Sol would never had made fighting Ky was making a pit trap. With his mastery over fire magic, it was nothing to heat a patch of ground until it was practically magma. If Ky was to step in such a trap, he would easily lose a leg to burns and maybe his life to infection. Yet a metal machine was another matter as his leg anchored into the molten ground. His swing went wide and awkward…

And Sol seized on it. He put the bulk of his remaining strength to bear as he darted forward, swung out, and hit the tip of the fake Thunderseal as hard as he could. Just as he hoped, the hit landed where he had stressed the blade earlier, and it was too much for it. The tip of the sword snapped off. Whatever power generator it was using caused electricity to snake out of the end of it like a thrashing worm.

The machine realized it had its blade damaged, but quickly reacted. Surging in power, it suddenly ripped its foot back out of the molten floor and pushed itself forward at the same time. In an instant, it was surging at Sol and smashing its own metal head into his forehead. At his current power, it was more than enough to knock the man back and almost off of his feet. Worse yet, it came dangerously close to denting in his headband; something he dared not lose now. Nevertheless, between his fatigue, his soreness, his injuries, and his overuse of magic, he barely managed to stay on his feet as he staggered back to the pool.

The blade of the machine continued to spark dangerously and one of its legs was slightly weighed down, but that was the only inconvenience it had suffered. The sparks flared more from the end of its broken weapon as it charged it with electricity again. Seeing Sol stunned, it took a moment to assess what would be the best move for it to make to end the battle. Finally settling on his heart, the machine braced its blade against its chest and shoulders and shot forward in a single lunge.

Sol remained seemingly helpless as the machine neared-only to react moments before impact. He swung out not his blade but his arm, tightening up and twisting his body at the same time so his arm struck the sword. In spite of the painful jolt, he hit the flat of the blade and quickly spun around and off of it as the robotic Ky continued to surge forward. As he came out of the spin, he raised his arm bearing the Fireseal and solidly struck the machine in the back of the head with the pommel. It wasn't his strongest hit in the world, but it was more than enough to knock the charging machine off balance so that it kept shooting forward; ending up flying over the lip of the pool and driving itself and its sword tip-first into the water.

Moments later, and Sol was staggering away as monstrous bolts of electricity erupted from the fountain, snaking throughout the pool and up the waterfall fountain. He suppressed a weak grin as he moved away from it. Just as he had expected. If that fake sword was trying to approximate the power of Ky with the Thunderseal, it had to have a generator powerful enough to power part of a major metropolitan area. Now that electricity was fully being discharged about the machine, conducted into and around it. And just as he hoped, the source of the power was the machine itself. Only it was large enough to fit the necessary reactor. The robotic Ky soon began to violently spasm as electricity passed into and through it. It shook wildly, jittering like it was having a seizure. Beeping and whining sounds began to come from within it, and soon smoke poured from its ears.

Sol didn't bother standing his ground. Weak as he was, he staggered and stumbled away as far as he could. He didn't know what had made that machine, but he was smart enough to know that it had been sent here for some sort of assassination or combat role against the Gear. He knew that meant there was no way it was intended to just "break down" if it met its match.

As he managed to find an exit sign and made his way there as fast as he could, the robotic Ky grew more violent. Heat began to melt through its joint sealant. One of its eyes flickered out as robotic garble bubbled from inside. A louder beeping began to sound from within it, sounding like a building siren rather than simply malfunctioning. As it grew in intensity, he smashed his way into the door at the end of the pathway and stumbled into a stairwell.

He already knew that Ky had to know nothing about this. He would have mentioned it if he had. That meant whoever built this was someone not affiliated with the International Police Force. And while this one had only been a "Brand X" version of Ky, it had been far from a minor threat. Against a lesser opponent it likely would have won.

That left a question: in a world without Gears, why would one need a way to produce drone soldiers of that much power? What threat would they possibly be trying to combat?

Sol didn't have an answer, and for now he didn't bother thinking of one. He had bigger problems to worry about.

Such as when half of the building he was currently in was abruptly annihilated; the end result of the robotic Ky's self-destruct detonating.

* * *

By the time the fiery eruption of the parking garage began to die down, there wasn't a person left in the city of Berlin who wasn't crying out in panic. Blocks away, the crowds left at the theater and everywhere else around turned and began to run as fast as they could, nearly stampeding each other and the law authorities trying to go the opposite way. More screams followed as buildings were pierced by debris and people in the road found pieces landing in their midst. The aircraft in the area pulled back; everyone terrified that the Gear had unleashed her power again and this time in a major urban scale. Curses in German went off on radios and the few people overseeing the civic authorities began to fear an attack was being made on the Reactor, not knowing that ship had already come and went.

And in the blocks now surrounding the ruins of the smoking, burning parking garage, piles of debris continued to rain down on top of one another as ash mingled with the falling snow. In spite of the sounds of crashing and colliding, the fading of aircraft engines, and the slow diminishing echo of the eruption, the area was now deserted. Whatever people had been left anywhere around the area had risen and run for their lives when the blast went off. And with the ones responsible for the blast also racing down the road for the airport, there was nothing left here but a ruin.

Yet in the midst of the falling rubble, tucked away in a thin alley that, between the old, solid, concrete foundations on both sides, almost provided a bomb shelter, some of the debris began to shift. Soon after, a few bits of wood and metal sheeting were pushed aside, revealing a gleaming metallic luster coming from two fully-unfurled fans draped over what was beneath. Slowly, they began to collapse and the man holding them began to emerge.

Things had gone rather horribly wrong for Anji Mito, and he knew it as his head slowly and stiffly raised from inside the trench. The shattered remains of his glasses fell off, both crushed and mottled with blood. The rest of him felt like an open sore, and looked like it too for the most part. He had managed to find and reclaim the Zessen just in time. The power of his fans kept him from being smashed when he unfurled them just as the blast went off, but they were only able to cover his torso and head. One of his arms and his feet were lacerated and bruised in multiple spots, and felt broken in at least four places between them. And that said nothing about the injuries he sustained in his fight and during the fall. He was dizzy and sick simply from the sheer trauma. By all accounts, the force of that explosion should have finished him. As it was, he was fortunate not to be buried alive.

Stiffly, he raised his good arm and pressed it on the edge of the foundations, slowly and stiffly pulling his body out. All he could manage was yanking it onto the concrete foundation, and then limply rolled himself off like a dying animal. Yet the pain was nothing compared to his failure in every other regard. The Gear had been that close, and he had come up short. By now she was either dead or far beyond his reach yet again. And as for him? He had been so beaten it would be fortunate if he wasn't found and returned to his colony like a lost puppy after all this. Of course, he'd get far worse than that if they found out half the things he had been doing...

Anji weakly looked up and forward, trying to find his way. But in between the smoke, the dust, the trauma to his head, and the fact his glasses had been smashed, all he could make out was darkness and a few vague shadows. He sighed as he lowered his head again. He couldn't even see where he was going now. And even if he could, where would he go? He'd be lucky to drag himself out of this far enough to find his way to an EMT worker, and that would hardly be a help in his current situation. He grit his teeth and struggled to pull himself forward, dragging his body across the still-falling debris and rubble by one arm; driving his body into more pain with each pull.

 _I honestly don't know what to be more upset about...the pain, or the loss. That close. I was one of the closest people in the world to her. And now? Now what? I was out too long to even find where she could have gone, and that explosion took care of any trail I would have found. Maybe it_ would _be better to return to the colony until I'm back on my feet. I didn't leave any evidence behind anywhere else I went. And it would help to use my status as a valuable rarity for a change to..._

"You want to know the truth about the Gears, do you?"

The man stopped pulling. Momentarily, he went rigid. A voice had spoken right in front of him. His head raised, but it was a wasted gesture. His eyes were so bad that he could see nothing except the vague shadows from before.

...Or could he?

He hadn't really focused on the blurry vision before, but there seemed to be more shadows before him now.

"Who...?" He was almost amazed at the croak of his own voice.

"Do you truly wish to know the truth, Anji Mito?"

The man was rendered mute by that answer. He blinked once. His vision didn't clear much, but now he was sure of it. There were at least three new shadows in front of him now. All of them were man-sized. In his swimming vision and senses, he could vaguely tell that the one in the middle had been the one who had spoken.

He struggled to focus on this one. Vaguely, he thought he could make out an odd hooded garment on this one with strips of cloth having finger-like extensions. Like he was dangling multiple hands.

His appearance was soon ignored. Anji cared more about the fact he not only knew his name, but knew his motives. Had his senses been sharper, he might have noticed more than that. The air about him had changed. The ash had stopped falling. The wind had stopped blowing. All he grown as still as if he was in another world.

"How did...?"

"How badly do you wish to know the truth?" The voice continued. It didn't seem so much as to echo through the air as it _was_ the air. "What would you give to know about it?"

Anji hesitated. This was sudden and unexpected. He had no idea who was talking or where he and his allies had come from. And yet, the way that phrase was spoken, the way the figure spoke with such certainty, he realized this wasn't a joke or a hallucination. He was telling the truth. He not only knew what Anji wanted, but he knew how to get it. He was genuinely offering it to him. And when that happened, the man forgot about both his pain as well as the mystery of his appearance. All he remembered was what sent him on this self-appointed mission in the first place: his curiosity.

The riddle of the Gears. The meaning behind them. The secret behind what had changed Earth forever. The greatest of all mysteries that he had come so close to beginning to unlock only to have it taken from him...

He forced his head up more.

"...Anything."

"'Anything'?" The voice echoed back. "I'll hold you to that."

* * *

Landing on the flatbed of a moving vehicle from several stories up would normally kill or injure people even with padding and reinforcement, and that was on a normal jump. Thanks to catching part of the blast from the parking garage on the way down, May had been wrenched painfully and landed wrong on one leg before collapsing and banging her shoulder as well. She let out a cry of pain and misery as she collapsed. Over the sounds of the boom behind her as well as the howling wind from the progress of the truck, she couldn't hear how anyone else had managed. Yet she was a tough girl and she had been through things like this before, and she forced her body to flop on its back and look up.

A towering inferno of smoke and fire burned through the snowy night and met her vision. Yet she also caught Johnny slamming down rather hard nearby and collapsing even more easily than her; in far worse shape. He nearly dumped Testament like a sack of potatoes, causing the Gear to cry out in even more pain; although May's sympathy for him was far lesser. That left Dizzy and the doctor…

She blinked. She could have sworn, for a moment, she saw him not only gracefully gliding in with Dizzy under one arm, but actually using an umbrella like a parachute as he came in…

She blinked again, and it was gone. Somehow the spindly doctor had landed normally, and was setting Dizzy down and already going for his bag again. It defied belief. Between the roaring of the explosion, the howling wind, the shockwave, the freezing snow, and the chaos of what they had all been through, he looked like nothing had changed. In no time at all his bag was down and open, and he seized out a large needle and some medical tubes.

"Quickly, quickly!" He called over the roaring of the truck. "We need to get her heart restarted very soon!"

At that moment, the huge truck made a sharp turn. In addition to squealing rubber, May, Johnny, and Testament suddenly found themselves violently flung to one side. As this was a dump truck, all gave a wince as they were nearly slid right out of the flatbed, and all had to find strength they didn't know they had to stop themselves. As for the doctor, he managed to plant his feet and put one down on Dizzy's body to keep her from going too far, but when the car straightened out everyone was shaken up.

"No more of that would also help her case immensely!" The doctor shouted.

"That can't be helped…" Johnny grunted as he struggled to peel himself up, grabbing Testament with him and dragging him over to the doctor. "We're still trying to escape, you know!"

"Well, I suppose I was getting too 'bored' with my practice lately, but keep in mind, contrary to how I appear, I am only mortal and there some things magic can't do!" He said as he leaned over to stick Dizzy. "This isn't a rush engineering job! This is a living creature! Thank goodness her flesh is nice and weak…how about yours, friend?"

Testament growled as he was adjusted near Dizzy. The moment he got there, he managed to raise one of his arms and traced a pattern in a circle. An instant later, blood seemed to paint the air and then solidify, forming a small crescent blade. Taking that in one hand, he stiffened himself a moment before spinning it over and driving it against one of his own veins, piercing his durable skin and drawing blood.

"Just…shove it…in there…" He said through clenched teeth.

"You'd make a wonderful cadaver, son!" The doctor answered as he began to lean over.

Right before he could stick him, the truck gave a violent jump from hitting a bump. It was enough to launch everyone into the air a whole foot before slamming them down again; the doctor included. He, however, somehow stayed on his feet.

A sigh from beneath the paper bag mask before he simultaneously stuck Testament and shouted. "Mind the bumps, would you? I've patched this girl's heart back together like a ramshackle quilt but don't think I'm such a miracle worker I can make it hold together with will alone! Another jolt bigger than that and she won't make it!"

With the two connected, the doctor wasted little time. When May finally leaned up and focused enough over the wind and rush to see what was happening, he had already put together his hand-operated transfusion kit, and was already pumping. She watched as blood ran out of Testament's body, into a sieve and glass jar construct, and then began to go up the other end. While he continued to operate this with one hand, he reached into his bag with the other, starting to get out a new device. This one was battery powered.

"You're going to defibrillate her now?" Johnny asked as he himself leaned up. "While she's only got a few milliliters in her?"

"Can't be helped! If the heart doesn't start up again soon it may never start! I've never operated on a Gear before and I need to see how much will get the nodes kicking and how much will depolarize her ventricles…assuming she even has nodes and ventricles to begin with, which I'm hoping she does!"

May took a deep breath to try and shout back, when she hesitated. Why was she still shouting at this point? They were a couple blocks away from the parking garage, but there was still a roar on the air…

She looked up skyward, and gasped.

Their getaway hadn't been clean. The military-issue hovercraft that had begun to close in on their position before they leapt for it was now behind them. And as they roared along in their own truck, she further noticed that it wasn't losing ground on them. It had to be in pursuit. The thought made her pale. If it was in pursuit, then it could already be identifying them. Already be charting their path. Already setting more officers to stop them long before they got to the airfield…

Yet on top of all that, she soon saw something that made her far more anxious than any of the above.

As the hovercraft pitched, the searchlight angled down. And when it did, she was able to barely see the wings of the aircraft through the billowing snow; and saw someone was riding one of the wings.

Someone who seemed to have long hair and a kimono.

"Oh…sh't."

* * *

Ky had survived the Crusades, and he still couldn't believe he was doing this.

In spite of his already-beaten body getting ravaged by the explosion of the parking garage and the fact he was now rolling, pitching, and yawing with the slightest movement from the hovercraft, he was still alive. Dangling from the Thunderseal as the streets of Berlin flew by below and the swirling snows blew around him. His miraculous stab had worked. He was anchored into the hovercraft and now, not really sure he had made the right decision, he found himself dangling along as the aircraft rushed away from the wreckage of the garage.

 _…_ _Now what?_

It was a legitimate question to ask himself. His body was sore, strained, and exhausted. It was all he could do at the moment just to hang on as the force of the flight threatened to wrench him off. All the aircraft had to do was pitch forward a bit more and his blade would slide right out and take him with it. And strong as he was, he estimated he was a good fifteen to twenty stories in the air right now. The result would not look pretty. He was so aghast at his circumstance as well as strained and agonized that he needed a moment just to try and think of where to go from here.

Finally, he forced his body to tighten and his arms to contort. Giving a pained grunt lost over the deafening roar of the turbines, he began to pull himself upward on the sword. He barely closed the distance before the aircraft suddenly gave a violent tilt to one side, causing him to slip and nearly losing his grip. It soon went back to the other way afterward, and for a moment one of his hands slipped-leaving him dangling in the air by one limb. Crying out, the desire to live pushed him onward to quickly seize the hilt again, but now one arm was strained to the breaking point.

 _Are they trying to knock me off?_

 _No…not me…_

Realizing it had to be the other individual, Ky redoubled his efforts. Crying out even louder, this time chanting a French prayer, he pulled himself up again. Slowly and surely, he yanked his body enough to where he could risk putting his boot out on the turbine. It was a slick, sleek surface with no purchase, but his stretched wits and faculties somehow forced his body to use his magic. Small bolts of electricity snaked from his boot soon after and his foot stuck to the turbine like glue. Not the best foothold in the world, but with light enough magic it could anchor there. He looked up afterward, and through the blinding snow and wind he just made out the wing handle. Praying again and taking in two deep breaths, he forced himself up and stretched out an arm, putting it over the top.

The wing was as sheer as the turbine, and lined with moisture from the flight. The only good side? It was so cold that his hand began to freeze to the wing, giving him some traction. He began to pull up…

A whistling sound so sharp it went over the turbine noise rang out, before Ky saw a spear tip imbed right where his hand was. Due to motion of the hovercraft it didn't lop off his fingers, but as it was two of them were sliced deep, spilling blood instantly. Even if the pain hadn't been there, the warm blood washed over his fingers and immediately melted his grip. A moment later, he slid back down in a mixture of shock and pain and was dangling by his sword again, this time falling so hard he felt it slide out slightly. Gaping, he looked up to where it came from.

The one-eyed woman had obviously noticed his presence. And in spite of the fact that she looked like she could barely balance on her getas, she had turned her full attention to him. Her severed sleeve was aimed at his dangling body: the source of the first spear. Now she was aiming for him again, and he only had one hand on a grip…

Ky watched her tensely over the blinding snow and wind for a moment, waiting for the fateful moment. An instant later, the spear fired. Cursing himself and his stupidity and praying yet again, he made his counter move with his lightning-enhanced reflexes. With a move that was a stretch even for him he hoisted up on the Thunderseal with enough power to make him surge upward again, before letting go of the handle all together. For a moment, his body was suspended above nothing as his magnetized foot loosened, and another spear shot out and pierced where his hand had been. Fortunately, on hitting the handle of the Thunderseal instead, it instantly blunted and shattered, but Ky wasn't going for that. Rather, his bleeding hand shot out and, with a Herculean effort that strained his arm to near the spraining point, he lashed out and seized the handle of the spear embedded in the wing. In spite of the agony, he held tight.

The one-eyed woman grit her teeth, forcing herself through the storm. It took her a moment to realize Ky was stuck. That last move had taken too much out of him, and he was stunned and left suspended with his sword below and one injured hand clutching a spear shaft. Still not anywhere on top of the wing. Now, he watched as a large dragon head emerged from her sleeve, its open mouth belching a fiery pilot light. He tensed; realizing she wasn't going to let him dodge the next one. She'd belch a flame shower to where he couldn't dodge. Even if he survived the blast, the pain would make him release and fall to his doom. As she took aim, he realized he had only one shot. One far crazier and pushing him harder than the last. His wrist began to work against the spear handle, trying to pry it off using his weight.

 _This is insanity..._ He told himself as it didn't give right away, prompting him to fight harder. For a moment, he didn't think he'd get it out as she aimed at him. Yet finally, just as he was sure he would be incinerated, it came loose. Gravity immediately yanked at him and began to pull him down, out of the way…

Yet as he fell, he pushed every ounce of magically-enhanced focus he could muster into his senses and muscles, cocked back the arm holding the spear, and then flung it right back at her. She reacted in alarm, but the spear wasn't aimed for any vitals. It was aimed for the edge of her arm. As he continued to fall down, extending his other hand to seize the Thunderseal hilt, he watched as the spear tip slashed the side of her severed limb. The sound of metal cutting metal rang out, and she peeled back…just as a broken ring clattered off of her stump and to the ground. Along with it, to the sound of a sharp sizzling noise, went half of the dragon flamethrower, which immediately went dead.

He had just cut her gateway projector. No more "trick shots" from that arm.

He still wasn't done. As he came down on the handle, he did so at an angle. Wondering both if he would survive this insane stunt and if he was mad for trying it, he let the gravity pull on him, actually swinging him down along the sword handle like it was one of a set of parallel bars, his body arched around once beneath and swung back upward, allowing him to suspend both legs up and over the turbine to find purchase. He hung there now, stretched between his sword insertion point and his legs, straddled in an odd position and unable to lift anymore. As he did, the one-eyed woman forgot her arm and instead drew her katana; moving in to slice him and knock him off regardless.

Having only one chance now, Ky fumbled around his middle with his one free limb, feeling his sword arm sliding more. It would pop out any minute. Yet as the woman came in to try and slice his legs clean off, which would result in the rest of him falling back to Earth, he managed to get his own Sacred Order standard loose. As she whipped her sword back, he lashed out with it like a ramshackle whip, and, through the greatest of providence, he managed to snag her "power" leg. She froze on realizing this, and he grit his teeth as he did a rather unorthodox move; he yanked back to try and pull her off of the wing.

While if he had been successful it likely would have not only killed her but him too when her falling body would have yanked him off, it had the desired counter-effect; it caused her to break out of her slash, slam her body against the wing, and struggle to pull back. As a result, she suddenly yanked him up and off of his position with her. Realizing the standard wouldn't hold long, he took the moment to yank the Thunderseal free and the split second afterward to charge it with even more electricity than he had charged his feet. As it lit to life, thundered, and sparked, it formed an electromagnet that instantly anchored itself to the top of the wing, becoming solid and rigid as a bar.

By now, the one-eyed assassin had loosed the strap, but he let it go, shifting both hands to the handle of the Thunderseal. With that, he launched his legs back and pushed himself off, swinging along the handle back the way he came. The gesture was just to build momentum for a move that he hoped would be his last insane maneuver this evening. As the woman staggered back up onto all fours and came forward with her katana, he swung himself forward with all of his might and enhancement he could muster. It worked successfully, and he managed to catch the draft of the flying wind and snow just right. His body swung up and over the wing by the sword just as he intended, and he greeted the approaching woman with a solid boot to the face. Her head was snapped to one side as she was knocked back, and Ky's own body went flying over the wing a moment before slamming down on top of it.

His relief at no longer dangling was short lived. Instantly, his body slid and slipped on the surface of the wing, for it was slightly rolled to one side and he soon found himself flailing as much as his opponent as he slid along it. It straightened out soon enough, but he still had to quickly spread out his palms and plant himself against it. His heart was racing and his eyes were wide now. This was _not_ a good place to be. This wasn't some airship or deck; this was a hovercraft wing. One might as well have been fighting on the wings of a World War II fighter. The wind, snow, and ice made this entire location lethal and even if there was no opponent he realized he'd be lucky to survive it.

Yet his opponent was already bracing herself with her sword and getting her getas underneath her. There was no time for hesitation. By the time he even leaned up and tried to reach back for the Thunderseal, she was already on her feet again. Ignoring her situation, eyes filled with passion, she surged at him with sword drawn as best as she could.

There was no time to be fancy or use any finesse. Ky simply swung his sword in front and over him in a cross as fast as he could to intercept the blade. The two collided, and he quickly pushed off to one side. Fortunately, her footing was so weak on the hovercraft wing that she had to roll with it to avoid being knocked off of her feet. Using that moment, Ky continued to push off with his own blade and roll up to his feet, standing as fast as he could. He spread his legs out just in time as the one-eyed woman recovered and surged at him, slicing out with her blade savagely in wide cuts. It was the best she could do with her current footing, but Ky's own footing wasn't that good to block. He ended up having to take two steps back as he cross the Thunderseal to block all three slashes…

Suddenly, both had to break off their attack. Whether due to their regular flight or due to trying to ursurp both stowaways off of the wing, the hovercraft suddenly pitched backward in a stall; causing the entire aircraft to rear up. The result inclined the wings, threatening to dump both individuals off to the earth far below. Both Ky and the woman had to stop and quickly lower and angle their bodies, barely managing to keep from sliding off from the gesture. They held for a few moments as the aircraft stayed stalling, before it had to level out again…

And immediately the one-eyed woman leapt at him, swinging her sword up and back to go for a slash at his neck or shoulder. Quickly, Ky retreated as she made the risky move, but not fully out of the way. As soon as she landed on the slippery wing, her footing was unsteady, and he used that moment to bring his broader sword forward, and collide with her slash; overextending it and forcing it to one side. The woman's one arm was wrenched downward, and she seemed exposed. He tried to seize the opportunity by thrusting forward in hopes of ending the duel. Unfortunately, the woman didn't go for it. Although she ended up getting a graze underneath where her arm used to be, she still managed to twist and crouch to avoid the stab, right before springing off with a rising slash aimed to cut Ky literally from stem to stern. Even in this hellish fighting environment, he barely managed to bring his blade back up to stop the cut in time, yet once there he quickly pushed back at her and ground into the cut. Without sure footing, he hoped to use his size as leverage over her to end this quickly.

But once more, such hopes were dashed. The hovercraft pitched again, this time forward. Both combatants broke off and struggled to lean in, but the hovercraft wasn't stopping there this time. It arched itself forward faster, increasing both the wind hitting the wings as well as the angle, and soon both Ky and the one-eyed woman began to feel themselves slipping. Having no other choice, both resorted to the same solution. As the wing turned vertical enough to knock them both off, both swung their respective blades around and drove them into the wing to use as anchors, then held onto the hilts for dear life.

Unfortunately for Ky, his blade was the far longer of the two, and as soon as it pierced in and supplied a touch of its electric power, he heard a sparking and hissing from the turbine underneath the wing, right before the entire hovercraft gave a violent spasm. Both were shaken harshly but managed to hold on, yet soon after a tendril of smoke rose from his own stab mark. He realized he had damaged something. Maybe not enough to disable to hovercraft (at least for now) but it made him mindful of something else. Neither of them could fight as errantly as they had on the ground. This wasn't just bad terrain; it was an environment that could be caused to crash.

By now his face was feeling a mixture of wind burn and numbness, but he looked up to the one-eyed woman. In spite of only having one arm, she somehow managed to hang on. She herself was having a hard time, but he saw that her one good eye was staring below, and spotted something. He looked after her, and through the storm he barely managed to make out a slightly-illuminated road beneath them. A dump truck of sorts was driving down it, with people in the back. At once he realized it had to be the others and the Gear. The hovercraft was in pursuit.

Looking back to the one-eyed woman, he watched as she clenched her teeth and looked back at him. In spite of her slipping getas, she struggled to move back up on the wing. She was trying to get leverage to let her arm go, seemingly to reach out and try and attack.

"Are you insane?!" He called out as loudly as he could. "Just stop! If we keep this up, we'll both die!"

"If I can't confront that man face-to-face…" She hissed back. "Then I don't have a reason to live!"

The woman pushed harder at this against the wing with one geta, lifting her body up enough to bring her sash level with the sword hilt. She immediately moved her body around to snag one leg over the embedded weapon, and a moment later her body straddled it, freeing up her one arm. Ky only had a moment to realize what she had done before she lunged out at him, suddenly seizing his head with her own arm and slamming it against the wing as hard as she could. In spite of their position, she generated considerable power, and soon his skull flooded with pain and his senses blackened from the blow. But she didn't stop then. She immediately smashed his head again against it, driving him into more pain and flooding his senses even further. And again after that, causing the rest of his senses to weaken and his grip to start to slip…

He let her get no further. He let one hand slip off of the sword grip, but only to reach out and seize her arm. With more senses and seemingly greater straight physical power, she immediately began to try and fight back to wrench her arm free while still holding onto his scalp, but he kept pushing as his hand moved to her pinkie finger. He wrapped his fingers around it as quickly as he could.

 _She just has one arm. Anything I can do to disable this one…_

He forced himself to bite back his chivalrous desires, telling himself they would do no good it if killed them both up here, before he snapped his wrist. A loud popping and snapping went off soon afterward.

At last, the woman expressed true pain as she cried out in agony. Her hand faltered and slipped off of Ky, managing to disengage from his grip too late, and her own leg grip around her sword started to slip…

Yet at that moment, the wing leveled out again. Ky himself had scarcely begun to lay against the wing again when the one-eyed woman snapped off first. Whether it was pain or fury that drove her, she sprung back and away from him and used her injured hand to grab the hilt of her sword. As she pulled it free, he got level enough to push himself up into a squat, but that proved to be harder than he liked. The wing had iced over more from the impact of his sword, where more drag had been created from his stab. He realized there was a good chance the pilots were leveling out because the damage he had done had hampered the aircraft somehow. He barely managed to get up in time to pull his sword out and free…

Right before, crying out, the one-eyed woman leapt at him with a slice designed to split his head in two. He didn't even have time to counter with the speed she used. He had to spring back as the woman's slash missed him and sliced into the wing where he had been instead. This time, her own cut caused more sparks from its depth, and further smoke belched out from within. The turbine on the hovercraft gave another not-too-pleasant sounding noise, but the woman didn't care. She leapt at him again, if anything striking harder than before with a slice at his neck. He went wide-eyed as he crossed his sword up to intercept that slash, but his footing was just as icy as ever and the strike as jarring as ever. He felt his feet slip as he was knocked askew. Not letting up, as soon as she landed she performed another upward slash. He managed to block it from cutting into him, but it knocked his arms up and hit him off balance more than before, making him stagger back as his feet slipped beneath him. She slid a bit herself as she forced her body up, but that didn't stop her as she slashed out more powerfully for him again. The attacks were no longer focused, just powerful and wild as she slipped and slid everywhere on advancing.

Ky's face was tense. The woman had gotten desperate. With one finger broken, she no longer had the power to focus her strikes for precision stabs or slashes. If the wing tipped again, she wouldn't be able to anchor herself by one arm with four fingers. Merely holding her grip right now had to be driving her into agony. So she was now going wild, purposely pushing everything she had into her strikes regardless of the danger to her to hopefully knock him off or kill him before that happened.

Unfortunately, she was having success. Ky couldn't get his footing on the wing, and he was being pushed closer to the edge where the winds were growing sharper. He didn't risk looking behind him, but he knew that he couldn't hold much longer. Even slipping and falling in the middle of the hovercraft would have been fatal; but here he was running out of ground to stand on. Her furious assault wouldn't allow him to plant his feet and mount a counterattack. She kept knocking him back then leaping and slashing again and again. If he didn't counter soon, she'd either disarm him or knock him over the edge…or perhaps simply slice down with enough force to damage the wing enough to crash the aircraft.

As his feet slipped within two feet of the edge, the one-eyed woman reared back for another leaping slash. Ky, tense, tired, and running out of room, racked his brains for a counter. The Thunderseal's length and size wasn't availing himself against her. He couldn't bring its full power to bear without good footing. Even if he blocked her here, the force would still knock him back. However, with one finger broken, he realized she could only put power into her slices by letting her legs do the work and pushing her body into slashes.

A crazy idea came to mind.

 _Then I won't let her have that option._

Thinking this was a move worthy of Sol, Ky suddenly dashed forward a step and dropped himself down onto the wing. His timing was perfect, for the aircraft made a slight turn at that point, giving him a ramp to work with, and he praised God that it hadn't gone the opposite way or he likely would have sealed his fate. Instead, the one-eyed woman's attack aborted and her own look turned to surprise as she found him sliding right across the icy wing for her. Before she could react, his legs lashed out and connected with her, knocking her off of her feet and into him. Both collapsed onto a heap on the wing soon after and continued to slide along it.

Again pushing away his more noble sensibilities and reminding himself this opponent needed to be disabled, Ky grit his teeth and grunted as he forced himself to roll on top of the one-eyed woman, finally able to put her down against the wing with his own body. She struggled to extract herself and stab him with her blade, but he forced his body in close to hers; not even giving her the leverage for that. And true to his hope, she refused to let go of her sword. That effectively made that arm useless. As for him, he shifted the Thunderseal to his stronger hand and seized her by the kimono with his bad one, then quickly slammed her shoulders and head against the wing twice. The first didn't do much, but the second managed to catch her head with a loud bang. As the wing leveled off again, but now rattling a bit from previous damage, she went slightly flaccid, and he quickly reared his fist up and punched her in the face as hard as he could. Then again. And again. And again. And again…

The woman's face slammed into the wing repeatedly as it twisted from side to size. Blood flew from her nose, then her lips. Yet still she kept fighting. Ky forced himself to hit her harder, digging into her all he could with every hit, feeling her struggling only very slowly start to weaken.

Unfortunately for Ky, he was so intent on knocking her out that he didn't see her manage to get her arm out and drive her blade into the wing again. This time, she only used the wing as a sheath to free her arm long enough to punch him in close range in the throat. Suddenly, his airway was cut off and he gagged and reeled back. It wasn't enough to get him off of her, but that hadn't been her intention. Her hand went out, snatched up her blade again, and brought it across her face for her to bite down on the middle of the blade with her teeth. Using the one arm to push herself up, she swung her head around, slicing out for Ky's face.

Between being gagged and her sudden counterattack, all Ky could do was spring back as fast as he could. Even so, he felt the tip of the blade dig into his cheek and open it up. A split second later and he realized his mouth would have been enlarged considerably…or the top of his head lopped off. As it was, now bleeding fresh, he rolled off of the woman as fast as he could. He tried to roll back onto his legs to spring back up, but the mixture of pain, lack of air, and growing exhaustion only made him sprawl back out before, gagging and heaving, he struggled to rise again.

The one consolation is that the one-eyed woman did much the same. She was clearly dizzy and struggling to maintain balance as she herself squatted and rose, no longer springing up. Half of her face, the half with her good eye (which Ky had targeted specifically), was swollen and puffy. Blood continued to run from her lips and bruises. She glared at the captain as best as she could, but she realized what he had done. He damaged her one good eye. Now she couldn't see that well anymore. Ky was removing her ability to fight, trying to force a surrender. The wing continued to rattle around both harder than before, such that when both finally did rise they stayed squatted against it, not wanting to risk any turbulence mixing with the rattling to knock them off. Both weakly raised their weapons and stared at each other, waiting for the next move.

The one-eyed woman made it. Gritting her teeth, she looked away from him and down to the wing instead. Suddenly, she tightened up on her sword and slashed down into it, cutting a massive gouge into the metal. More sparks flew as her weapon went through a cable, but she didn't stop there. She immediately sliced again.

Ky's face turned to horror. "What are you doing?!"

Her only answer was to slice out again. The wing rattled harder. Inside the aircraft, an alarm began to blare. Ky didn't know what had gotten into her, but he knew he couldn't let her keep doing it. She was going to crash them. He couldn't use his lightning on her, either. The hovercraft was too damaged to risk it. Instead, he made the only move he could. Stumbling along the icy wing, he charged at her as best as he could, readying her blade for a thrust to counter her and force her to defend.

Yet as he nearly reached her, he saw her make a fateful move. Her last slash went down, and a spray of green fluid came up after it. _The hydraulics…_

He was on her an instant later, but right as he neared, she suddenly sprang on him; repositioning her new slice to parry his slash to one side. She spun along the blade, but not to close the distance on him completely. Rather, she built up in power and swung around faster than he could react with his dimming enhancement, and struck the blade again. Off balance, off guard, and weakening himself, the blow hit him too hard and at the right spot. Before he could tighten his grip, he felt the Thunderseal fly out of his fingers. And given his position, he was soon helpless to do anything but watch the sword fly over the edge of the wing and fly to the ground below.

Being stunned by that, he was left fully open for what came next as the one-eyed woman spun inward with the slash she had just made. She probably intended to cut into him, but not willing to give him the moment to recover or pull back that it would take to reorientate her blade, she instead swung out with the pommel and caught him hard on the side of the head. Already off balance, he immediately slammed down on his back on the wing. The blow itself was strong and jarring, but not as bad as her others. A fortunate thing too, because she immediately leapt one more time, this time aiming her sword at his heart before coming down…

Ky's eyes widened. He quickly slapped his palms out and caught the blade three inches before it could pierce him. It wouldn't have mattered if his opponent was still at her best, but she didn't have the best balance and still had to deal with her broken finger. As it was, rather than being stabbed outright he simply slowed the blade to a crawl, only making it slowly begin to descend instead. The woman hunched over him, her teeth gnashed and her battered eyed still filled with a wild passion. He felt both her sweat as well as the freezing powder smack on his face as she struggled to push the sword in to finish him. His heart began to pound harder as he realized she would succeed. He couldn't stop the wet blade from descending, and he watched as it slid down one inch…two inches…three inches…and rest its tip on his clothes before starting to dig in. He felt it pierced all the way and touch his skin, then winced as he felt it go in. He struggled not to writhe in pain as he felt the tip meet resistance in the form of his breastbone…finally stopping it for the moment, but still helpless to get free or get her off of him. All the wing needed to do is give one more violent shudder and the sword would slide in the rest of the way…

As it turned out, a violent shudder didn't come. Rather, a sharp whine was heard, then a grind, and finally a blast as the damaged turbine exploded. The burst was enough to throw the one-eyed woman and her sword off of Ky, but he himself turned and looked into the fiery cloud that was now one of the turbines. The loss of the hydraulics had caused it to lock up, but the rotors couldn't handle it.

And now, as he watched, before his eyes the large rotor blade, still spinning, was blown clear out of the turbine and sent for a violent slice to one side: cutting right through the cockpit region. Assuming the highly unlikely scenario that the aircraft pilots weren't instantly sliced in half along with it, they would have died soon after as the cut severed the cockpit straight off of the hovercraft and sent it crashing back down to Earth. The rest of the hovercraft immediately started to pitch, no longer having a pilot, enough support from its remaining turbine, or even a helm. Crashing was now inevitable.

As the wing rapidly began to pitch downward and threaten to dump him off again, Ky forced himself through fresh pain to push up and held out his hand. He had never tried to summon the Thunderseal from this far away before, and he realized now that the wind was picking up, the wing was on fire, and he was headed for a violent crash any way one looked at it this might be moot, but he had to make an attempt to survive. Praying he had enough magical power left in him for it, he closed his eyes and concentrated as hard as he could, feeling out into the city below for the strongest source of lightning magic he could find. A few fateful moments ticked by that he knew he didn't have…

With a burst of electricity, his sword suddenly reformed in his hand. A tiny measure of relief flowed through him, but not much. He realized he had little to be happy about, but nevertheless clenched the hilt as hard as he could as his eyes opened up. His body was almost to the point of sliding off now, so he quickly pushed himself up while he still could get the leverage, aimed his body as far back on the wing as he could, and then leapt up and drove his sword into it as an anchor. He was near the trailing end and locked in now, as much good as it would do him. He looked up and behind him and saw the aircraft was already making its final descent ever. He couldn't see much of the city below but it looked like it would smash right into one of the burroughs that hadn't been reclaimed from the war, so the crash itself hopefully would claim no lives-save his own and the one-eyed woman's.

At that thought, he spared a moment to look to his side. Over the sounds of the burning engine and the rapid descent, he hadn't heard what she had done. Using her own sword much as he was, she had anchored herself into the tail end of the wing. She was actually in striking distance, but neither of them cared any more for their fight now. Both of them could look and see they were less than five seconds from crashing and had no hope of escape. This suicidal battle would end up being suicide after all…

 _Unless one thing on this hovercraft still works…_ Ky thought. It was a longshot, but it was better than going down with the ship.

A moment later, his faith and hope were rewarded. Suddenly, the wing in front of him snapped open automatically. Both he and the one-eyed woman snapped their heads to it as a pair of chutes were deployed. Ky couldn't believe the providence. Even with the cockpit gone, the automatic systems on the hovercraft detected it was descending too quickly and was deploying its drag chutes without pilot intervention. Both he and the one-eyed woman were nearly flung off from the sudden snap of deacceleration, but both gained five extra seconds of life as the chutes opened and went to work.

 _Hopefully more than that._

Grunting and straining, Ky forced his good hand off of the hilt, leaving his cut and bleeding one to hold the rest of his body by his sword hilt. His hand lashed out and seized the cords of the chute, quickly moving them about to try and seize multiple ones. This wouldn't work if he only grabbed a few lines, after all. Once he had them, he used the pull to yank himself up, and then pulled out his sword with his other hand. Quickly shifting his boots, he moved them into the newly-opened groove and locked them in; hoping he wasn't about to get himself torn in half doing this, and then lashed out and cut the lines.

His arm felt like it was nearly yanked out of his socket, but fortunately there were multiple chutes along the wing and, in spite of his battered state, he was still stronger than most people. Somehow, he held on, and braced himself to leap clear…

When he paused.

He looked back to his opponent. Her one battered eye was glaring at him but was helpless to do anything. Another chute dangled in front of her, but it might as well have been on the moon. She only had one arm. She couldn't do what he had done.

There was precious little time for any hesitation or second thoughts. Yet Ky wasted one more second staring at her before he made a move. Grunting and gritting his teeth over the strain, knowing one good draft could eject him whether he wished it or not, he took a moment to slide his sword back at his side, freeing up an arm. Yet he didn't grab the chute with it.

Instead, tightening his grip and going red-faced with strain, he started to push himself back and reach out to grab the woman.

Through the wind, snow, and smoke, he saw her eye widen. She realized what he was doing. Fighting the chute was more than hard work, and he barely managed to get his hand closer to her. There wasn't enough time to get it all the way, and so he shouted at her as loud and hard as he dared. His voice was totally lost on the wind, but he hoped she could read his lips.

 _Take it._

For a fateful moment, as the details of the skyline of Berlin grew clearer once again, he saw her stare back showing nothing. Yet as he finally got near to where he could take a risk and try and seize her, he saw her change. Her face tightened up again.

She shouted back to him, and the words were lost on the wind as well. He saw her lips, though.

And a moment later, she did pull her arm free, but only to take her sword with it. Before she flew off the wing, she used her instant to slash out and slice where Ky's feet were anchored. The metal was knocked loose, and Ky's body was snapped free of the hovercraft wing.

The force made his stomach turn into knots and send the blood in his head flying. In moments, Ky was surrounded by nothing but air and spinning with vertigo. Yet somehow his stunned face managed to look back at the hovercraft wing. To the very last, he looked right back at that woman's one eye as it glared at him, until it vanished into the snow and wind. It gleamed with a fire far stronger than that of the hovercraft wing. A fire born of an unquenchable, hellish hatred that no amount of time or mercy could ever smother. Sustained by a single-minded passion that had been so long all she had that it was now the only life she knew. It vanished into the darkness and became the shadow of the hovercraft, and he saw it as it collided with two buildings soon after and burst into flame. Ky was soon flung back even more violently from the force of the explosion, and only then did he close his eyes and pray that the blast wouldn't knock him and the chute clean over or he was done for…

Yet finally the blast died down, and, wavering like a pendulum, the captain of the IPF, sore, battered, tired, and yet alive, was left dangling from the chute as it slowly descended back into Berlin. His eyes slowly opened, and saw the thick snow only gently falling around him now. The frigid blast that had burned his body raw had died down. Now the air was gentle; the fire about his body still pumped and on edge from the intense fight he had gone through very slowly dimming.

And before him, about a block away now, the burning remains of the hovercraft slowly rose to the heavens.

Ky looked back at them and stared. His face was no longer hard. It now reflected his thoughts as he replayed what that woman had said to him before the end. He made it out clearly in spite of the destruction he narrowly avoided. Now he puzzled as to whether or not it was one final act of defiance, or if that bottomless hatred in her soul, whatever had gotten her alive through the loss of her eye and arm, would push her on from there as well. Or perhaps simply if at this point she thought it would as it had doubtless times before…

 _I won't die._

The man didn't know the answer. Yet he tried not to think of that now.

For better or for worse, it was all over.

* * *

 _To be continued..._


	29. Premonition

**"** **Premonition"**

* * *

Berlin hadn't looked this bad since the Crusades. A quarter of the International Police Force had descended upon the city in addition to half of Germany's air navy with their armored divisions now heading up every major thoroughfare. Martial law had been reinstated and everyone was being herded into their homes while military personnel marched up and down the streets. It was mostly a futile gesture, however. There was only a couple blocks now that were worth any concern.

Inspector Stein wiped another amount of sweat from his head as he surveyed the heart of the destruction itself, which even now was still surrounded by firefighters spraying the smoldering remains of the parking garage and an adjoining office building. Both had been destroyed by two separate explosions that occurred roughly concurrently, but with one far more destructive than the previous one. Luckily, both had been abandoned at the time, either due to the ballet that had been going on, consequent evacuations, or simply fleeing in fear.

As to why they had been destroyed, the confusing story was still emerging. Currently there were conflicting reports all over, exacerbated by the weather (which was still coming down), conflicting reports by various sources, disabled grids for security systems, and unfounded sightings. However, one thing that was clear was that a Gear had been in the area, and the only logical conclusion was that it was the Gear that had lain waste to a good part of Adelwolf. The destruction of these two structures seemed to support it. Yet in addition to that were numerous other incidents surrounding it, including the sighting of international fugitive Millia Rage, the escape of Sol Badguy, a sighting of a mass murder suspect in the area, and spammers going off like mad; scanning several huge powers that corresponded to more than one Gear. In the midst of it all, the military and international authorities had gone while trying to figure out what was what.

Yet as he continued to watch the ruins being extinguished, the commander figured he would finally get some answers on hearing a car engine behind him. He turned and looked, and spotted one more vehicle joining the already large number surrounding the wreckage. He made out that it was one of the least vehicles used by the IPF in the Berlin area. All better ones were already being put to use elsewhere, leaving only, of all things, a small utility vehicle devoted to sanitation and grooming of public parks. Nevertheless, the commander had expected it ever since he first heard the transmission from several city blocks away. And as it turned to come in for a stop, Stein noticed through the snow and flashing alarm lights who was sitting in the back.

The IPF officer had never seen Captain Ky Kiske look so torn up before. Much of his uniform was torn, bloody, or even burned. He was cut in a dozen places and holding one of his limbs as if it was useless. When the vehicle stopped and he readily dismounted, he did so only stiffly as if his body was covered with bruises, and he began to limp over to the officer even more slowly.

Yet in spite of his astonishment at what could have done this to the former Sacred Order member, the officer couldn't help but frown.

"Captain, I never thought I'd say this to you..." He sighed. "But do you have any reason I can give the Germans as to why they shouldn't have you arrested?"

"I was on duty the entire time, commander." He answered as he limped forward. "This had nothing to do with the Gear or her attack."

The older man sighed. "You don't expect me to honestly believe that, do you sir? We have multiple sightings of you here."

"As I am physically here at the moment, I don't deny that I was in the area. But it had nothing to do with the Gear. I was tracking the escaped bounty hunter who assaulted 30 of my fellow officers in the Schwarzwald, and goodness knows how many others."

The IPF officer hesitated. He thought of trying to contradict the captain on that, only to find that even if he wanted to he couldn't. One of the German hovercrafts had reported a sighting of someone who looked like Captain Kiske fighting on top of the parking garage right before, based on the hastily shouted and screamed broadcasts, it sounded like the fight had spilled over into the destruction of the hovercraft itself. And he had to admit that if anyone could walk away from a hovercraft crash and explosion, they would likely look like the captain looked now. However, that alone proved nothing. The report had also sighted someone matching the description of the assassin they had captured, which confirmed his story. There was one potential sighting of him near one of the security grid controls, which was far more suspect, but that hardly panned out as there was another sighting at the same time with him elsewhere. They couldn't both be real, leading credence to the possibility it was all just confusion.

Of course, that didn't exempt him from anything else he was suspected of; which included potential involvement in freeing Sol Badguy. Or the fact that his operation had taken him suspiciously close to where the Gear was suspected to have been located.

"I'll still have to report this both to the German Military and the Heads of the IPF, captain." The inspector reluctantly stated after a time. "I'm sorry. But, at the least, what became of the assassin?"

Ky was quiet for a moment. "…She was responsible for the loss of life on a German Military Hovercraft. I did my best to apprehend her, but...she ended up taking her own life. She was slain along with the hovercraft crash."

He sighed. "Well, it's highly unlikely we'll find any of her remains in a blast like that, but we had better-"

"Inspector! We've got something!"

The voice of another officer shouted from near the destruction caused both IPF officers to look. He was giving both a salute when they turned to him, but then quickly turned and motioned with his hand. Several policemen began to bring something up the crater of the former parking garage, carrying it between them. The officers and military alike had been issued several large biohazardous and "magi-hazardous" containers for the explicit purpose of containing Gear remains, as even a severed body part could possess dangerous properties. And as they pulled them up out of the ditch that had been the foundations of the structure, they revealed there were bits of material in two of the containers.

One was a sickly greenish-dark-gray wing, while the other was an icy blue one.

"Looks like it's pieces of that thing." He stated. "It was here...and it looks like it got shredded."

Stein cast a glance to Ky. The captain was staring at the wings, and Stein thought, perhaps very slightly, he saw something pass over his face in the darkness as a claxion light passed over him. Yet on the next one, it was gone. He showed nothing that indicated any more than stress or strain. He looked back to the IPF member.

"That's impossible, officer."

The man looked rather surprised to hear that, and Stein looked out of the corner of his vision at Ky to see any reaction from him. He saw none, however. "But...but sir...the wings are right here..."

"I trust you saw what happened to Adelwolf, officer? What that Gear did to those military aircraft?"

"Y-Yes sir..."

"Then you should know that there is no way the Gear would simply fall apart or tear to pieces on its own without something attacking it, and there were no attacks on this area: military or otherwise. The only way that Gear could have been destroyed is if someone was here to do it. I don't see anyone in this area who looks like they could have been responsible, do you?"

The officer stammered, not sure what to say to that and not having an answer for that reasonable question. Right at that moment, however, a loud sputtering was heard.

"PFFT! Hey! Cut it out!"

This time, the officers pulling out the remains of the Gear as well as the captain and commander turned to the sound, and found themselves looking at one of the smaller piles of rubble. It was shifting now. One of the firefighters was dousing it with a hose, only to find something coming out from beneath it and, in turn, getting splattered by it. As the ash-covered body emerged, the hose rapidly began to clean it off, revealing the tattered, haggard remains of a woman with hair that had to have been elaborately styled at one point but, by now, we looking rather ragged and misshapen from the combination of a blast and a hose.

At any rate, the firefighters were quick to cut it off, and the young woman sputtered a bit more before beginning to walk forward out of the rubble.

"Ugh...what's going on? First I nearly get blown to bits, then I get buried alive, and now I get soaked and half-frozen by..."

The woman's eyes opened, and soon she went silent at what she saw. Namely a squad of police officers and German military had their weapons out and aimed at her.

She swallowed as she nervously lifted her hands. Soon after, she closed her eyes and sighed.

"This isn't my day..."

* * *

 _"We open this Christmas Eve with some good news. After a three month continent-spanning hunt, at long last the rogue Gear that put the world on edge has been destroyed._

 _"In a rather explosive night in Berlin, Germany, authorities now conclude that the Gear made an appearance around opening curtain of the city's annual 'Nutcracker' performance. Soon thereafter, authorities snapped into action and, although the incident caused the destruction of two buildings and seismic damage to three blocks, at the end of the event the Gear was neutralized. German authorities as well as IPF personnel have confirmed the recovery of the remains of the Gear, which remain under lock and key in the possession of the German government._

 _"The individual credited with slaying the Gear, and who will receive the 100,000 World Dollar bounty for her service to Germany, Europe, and the world at large, ended up being a privately-trained martial artist and Class D magic named Jam Kuradoberi. Ms. Kuradoberi, who hails from China, was not readily available for comment on the night of the attack, but in the days that followed we managed to get in a few question as she was departing the St. Joseph-Krakenhaus Hospital for a flight to her home."_

The screen changed to footage of a bandaged and still-somewhat-stunned Jam as she half-stumbled out of the hospital, immediately finding herself surrounded by reporters. Naturally, she instantly shrank back on the sudden mob about her, and was bombarded by a dozen questions.

 _"Ms. Kuradoberi, how did you manage to kill a creature that leveled five city blocks?"_

 _"Uh, well...it...um...got sloppy, I guess. You know...just look for the right opening, heh..."_

 _"Is it true that you managed to get it to blow itself to pieces with her own explosion, or did you manage to rig up a bomb to its body to destroy it?"_

 _"Um...er...yes?"_

 _"What do you plan to do with the bounty?"_

This put her more at ease. _"Oh, that? Oh! Finally live up to my dream, of course! I'm going to own the biggest restaurant in Southeast Asia! Everyone at home make sure to come there! Uh...if you can get there, that is. I mean, it's kind of far, but...well...you know what I mean!"_

 _"Did you really manage to defeat the Gear all by yourself?"_

Jam hesitated on camera for a moment. A bead of sweat became visible on her brow.

 _"Well...let's just say that I didn't get this far all by myself."_ She finally said. _"Things went bad more than once and it was...well...a trip I wasn't really expecting. But things turned out alright in the end and..."_ She paused. Her expression grew thoughtful for a moment.

Finally, she smiled wistfully.

 _"In spite of everything, it was kind of fun and...I'd like to think I made a friend out of it. I hope wherever she is, she feels the same way. And, uh...so long as she 'behaves'...if she's watching, I want her to know she's welcome at the restaurant whenever she's in my neck of the woods."_

"I'll be."

The hooded woman looked away from the television set. On turning her head to who had spoken, she just barely showed off a lock of blond hair. Seeming to realize it was out of place, she held up a heavy-bandaged and casted hand to her head to pretend to brush it back; in truth obscuring it as it readjusted itself well behind the hood. She didn't really count on the heavy amount of dressings spotted all over her battered body to conceal her that well, and until she had put 2,000 miles between herself and Germany she would continue to conceal herself like a leper. Even then, she'd only stay long enough for the rest of her bound injuries to knit. Then it would be back north again once she heard word of where her quarry was next.

She may have been done with the Syndicate, but there was still one last "debt to pay".

Yet her fellow passenger at the docking station, waiting for the next boat across the Mediterranean to Syria, had clearly directed his two word comment at her, and it prompted her to look to him with no small amount of coldness. It was enough to make him blanch a bit and recoil slightly.

"...Excuse me?" She asked in a biting tone.

He swallowed and put his hands up in defense. "Um...sorry to bother you, miss. I didn't mean to. I just...couldn't help but notice."

"Notice _what?_ " She asked. Beneath her hood, her hair began to prick up. The last thing she needed was a civilian recognizing her when she had gotten this far.

"Just that...that..."

"Spit it out."

"That this was the first time I saw you smile since you got on the bus back in Milan."

The stern look melted. So did the anger that fueled it. She...had smiled? And not been conscious of doing so? The woman couldn't remember the last time that had happened, assuming it had _ever_ happened. But what could have set it off?

She looked back to the TV, which was still running the same story although Jam was gone. However, she remembered what she said. Furthermore, she remembered the word she used to describe her. And she remembered thinking that she never heard someone call her that before. "Companion", "protege", "co-worker", "partner"...maybe. But that word? Yet was it really that word that had made her smile? Or was it rather that she realized, for all the trouble she had been through, and all the misfortune of being bound to her, that things had worked out in a better way at the end? That all of the misery she had to go through on her account ended up giving her what she wanted at the end?

She didn't realize it, but she began to smile again at the thought.

She turned away from the man, still spooked at her reaction, but easing up now.

"Just finding out that this world is cruel...but occasionally it does give good things to good people."

* * *

 _"_ _Unfortunately, Berlin was not without fatalities that day. A suspect who had escaped from IPF custody after slaying 30 officers was responsible for a crash of a German Luftwaffe Patrol Hovercraft and the death of the two pilots. The suspect was eventually confronted and killed by Captain Ky Kiske of the International Police Force when she refused to surrender._

 _"_ _Captain Kiske, a hero of the Crusades and instrumental in resolving the London Incident earlier this year, was previously facing arraignment for potential involvement in an attack that resulted in the escape of international fugitive Sol Badguy and in usurping authority within the International Police Force. However, since the event, all charges have summarily been dropped, and the Post-War Administration Bureau has commended the captain for his role in bringing the fugitive to justice."_

* * *

The blue-haired girl had been stirring for the past hour. It had been the first real signs of life she had shown in days. Yet ever since she gave a light turn 60 minutes ago, her tossing and turning had grown a bit more potent and frequent. Now, as she lay back and her hand reached out and grasped her covers, her red eyes slowly opened.

She blinked twice, her wits obviously still groggy and unaware of what was going on, in addition to trying to understand what she was seeing. She saw neither the sky overhead nor a wood or stone roof nor even a tree canopy, but a ceiling made of iron metal plates. One might mistake it for a cell, except sunlight was passing into the room. She also heard a rather loud humming about her. Her face remained blank as she blinked a third time, growing awareness only giving way to confusion.

She heard a door open in front of her. "Hey! You're awake!"

At once, Dizzy sat bolt upright in where she was, cringing and nearly going into a ball. Undyne and Necro burst out from behind her, both brandishing their respective weapons. Her own eyes shot to the front of the chamber, finding the rest of it to be metal plated as well, and the door inside nothing more than a thick, giant bulkhead. Yet more than that, she noticed a brown-haired girl in a pirate hat had just walked inside.

Yet on seeing her "rile up" and the air begin to charge with fresh energy, sweat rapidly began to bead up on her temple. Her previous genuine smile began to grow nervous as she leaned the rest of the way in, holding her hands up in a halting…or surrender…gesture.

"Uh…h-h-hey, hey! There's no need for that! J-J-Just…just ease up and put your feathered friends away, won't you? You're safe here!"

Dizzy blinked again. However, Undyne and Necro slowly began to slip back into her feathers even as her wings stayed unfurled. "M…May? Is that you…? What…what are you doing here?"

"Unfortunately, you would do better to ask yourself that question."

The new voice was more familiar, but it still prompted Dizzy to look to one side. Standing in one of the shadows of the room, blending in so well she hadn't even noticed him until she looked right at him, stood Testament. His own red eyes were locked on May and burning into her, but his body was leaned back with arms crossed. His scythe was not out.

"You're on their ship." He went on, never looking at her. "They got us far outside of Germany. Back to England, of all places." He snorted. "To think…a human would keep a promise to a Gear. I half expect to look out the window and see swine floating…"

Dizzy blinked again, her wings lowering further. Her face remained covered with confusion. However, on looking down at herself, she gave a bit of a start. Only now did she realize she had been in a bed this whole time, clothed in just a basic white gown that looked handmade from sheets. She had ripped the back when her wings emerged. All of her bows were gone, letting her blue hair hang freely at the sides of her head. Yet what she really noticed was in the center of her chest. Holding the gown back a bit, she saw a thick dressing was wrapped around it over her heart.

She began to curiously reach for that and pull at the adhesive.

May's face blanched. "Uh, I wouldn't do that… It's only been about five…"

Too late. The dressing was pulled off. Dizzy let out a mild gasp on what was beneath. Pink tissue trailed over where her chest wound had been. It had healed at this point, but the stitches were still inside and hadn't yet been removed.

Nevertheless, Dizzy's pupils shrank and her mouth hung ajar. Seeing that brought it back…

"I…I…"

"It's ok! It's ok!" May shouted immediately. "We found…I mean…a doctor…ugh… You got patched up, alright? You're right as rain now!"

"She's right, Dizzy." Testament immediately added, having looking up when Dizzy began to look distressed. The blue-haired girl looked up to him. "You were badly wounded, but you've received medical treatment. You'll be fine."

The Gear blinked. "But…but I was stabbed through…"

"He's right, Dizzy." May cut off. "It was…well…uh…bad, but you got patched up in time. You'll be fine. You're alive and you're safe. I mean…heh…modern medical magic can fix anything, eh?"

"Don't dwell on it." Testament added in a calmer, more reassuring voice. "It's over and done."

The Gear continued to look at her chest for a moment, but finally looked away. There was one good side to having a juvenile mind. She wouldn't obsess over matters that weren't adequately explained. Yet soon after, she looked up.

"…Did you say we are in England? And…" She turned her head a bit at the other word. "…Safe?"

Before May or Testament could answer, a knock rang out on the bulkhead door. Dizzy looked up, and shrank back reflexively a moment later when a man in a black, wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses looked in. Her wings again perked up and the faces of Necro and Undyne just barely began to emerge from the feathers, but no more than that. Nevertheless, in spite of this reaction, the new arrival remained casual as he looked around. By comparison, Testament immediately tightened on seeing him.

"Oh hey! You're awake!" He called out, soon walking in the rest of the way. "'Bout time… We were all a bit worried the first day or so. Now that you're up, allow me to welcome you aboard the May Ship, ma'am. Sorry if the 'luxury suite' accommodations are not quite what you hoped for and that I can't be giving you this greeting while airborne, but give us another couple hours to finish off some repairs and we'll be on our way."

Dizzy continued to shrink back, but seemed, at minimum, confused at this greeting. "Who…who are you?"

"Oh!" May suddenly exclaimed, having moved to one side as the man entered, revealing himself to be dressed in black and with an arm behind his back. "Dizzy, this is Johnny. He's the captain of the ship. He's the one who got you out of Germany."

The blue-haired girl looked up a bit. "Got me…out…?"

"One of the many advantages of having your own airship." Johnny continued with a smile. "You needn't worry about being tracked by the military, the IPF, or anyone else now, young lady. We slipped in and out before they ever knew we were there. We're a good 700 miles away from Berlin now and, heh, after the little stunt we pulled, no one is even looking for you anymore. Not a bad bit of death-faking, if I do say so myself. Even if it got a little too real on more than one occasion…"

Dizzy's wings lowered fully as she looked up more. "Death-faking?"

"He means the world now believes you're dead." Testament more flatly stated, although his tone turned up slightly to address her. "Your wings that were cut off were claimed by the Germany military and they assumed you were blown up in the blast. A human has already taken credit for your murder and has accepted the bounty. The world-wide manhunt has been called off."

The blue-haired girl's red eyes blinked as she eased up more. A look came over her: a mixture of disbelief, but also slow realization.

May smiled more. "That's what I meant by you're safe, Dizzy. No one knows you exist anymore except us. You won't be hunted by anyone anymore. You're free."

At once, a cold snort came from Testament. "…For the moment, yes." He half-muttered.

Dizzy didn't seem to notice that as much. She was slowly looking up more. Her constant fear and anxiety was alleviating. She may have been young, but she knew what all of this meant. That the nightmare she had gone through was finally over. That she no longer had to be worried about being chased and hounded like an animal. That she didn't have to fear being forced to defend herself with her horrific power again. Yet also something else registered.

She looked up to Johnny and May again, looking between both of them.

"You're both…humans. But…you did this…for me? You faked my death, snuck me out of Germany, and cared for me…though I'm a Gear?"

"Told you I was your friend." May answered, sticking out her tongue.

"I consider myself a true gentleman." Johnny smugly added. "I never leave a nice young lady hanging."

Testament's own face turned to a scowl. "Well, I wouldn't say gratitude is exactly what _I_ am feeling. More like surprise. And suspicion, for that matter. I'd like to-"

Johnny suddenly held up a hand to him. "That's nice, but now that the young lady is awake, I think now is best to unveil my little surprise."

The man in black turned to the bulkhead. However, nothing happened. Everyone looked to it, but the door simply hung open. Unseen by Dizzy, Johnny's smile ebbed as he moistened his lips and gave a cough. Still nothing. Testament glared at him while Johnny, smile fading a bit more, coughed more loudly.

"April, won't you be so kind as to bring our guest her little present?"

There were three more seconds of pause, before, very slowly, a gift-wrapped box began to make its way through the crack. Arms holding it were slowly revealed, and beyond it, brow covered with sweat and a smile veritably plastered to her face in a frozen look, came the ship's pilot. She slowly and mechanically turned, giving the same smile to Dizzy. Fortunately, the girl didn't seem to pick up on the blatant falsity of the gesture.

Seeing her hesitate, May quickly moved in at her side and put an arm around her shoulders. "April…this is Dizzy. You know? The one Johnny and I have been talking about?" Her teeth began to clench. "The perfectly harmless, innocent, new friend I made that we've invited on board as a guest? …And that there's no need to treat like she's a snake about to bite you…?"

The pilot swallowed once, then forced herself to ease. "Oh…h-h-hey…D-D-Dizzy…um…" She swallowed again, and made herself move forward. "Just, uh…er…never met a Gear before… Any…anyway… We all got together and got you a little something to say 'hi'…so…uh…here it is…"

She reached the bed and slowly put the box down at the foot of it. Dizzy looked to it, then back up. "…For me?"

April stiffened, as if she hadn't been expecting "it could talk". Yet on hearing a normal voice, she eased even more. "Um…yes…yes! Yes, that's for you. Er…um… I'll just see myself out for now, and…tell the others you're up and that we'll all see you soon. …Bye!"

She backed up the first two steps, not looking away from Dizzy's innocent expression, before she calmed enough to turn and walk out more normally. May cast her a visible frown as she went, but then looked back to Dizzy with a smile. "Go on! Open it!"

The Gear blinked. She looked at Testament. He frowned and rolled his eyes, but didn't tell her not to. Slowly, her hands lifted from under the covers, reached out, grasped the box, and removed the lid. She looked at what was inside. She blinked again, seeming a bit uncertain.

"Um…"

"I hope it fits." Johnny smiled. "Go on! Try it on! I'll wait." He began to move to lean against the wall, clearly intending to watch.

That, however, prompted Testament to stand rather sharply. "…That 'chat' I wanted to have with you when I first came on board, human." He coldly stated. "Let's have it now."

The man in black's smile remained, although a lump swallowed in his throat as he readily leaned up. "Right. All work and no play. Oh well, I'll check you out in it later…that is, I'll see you model it later…that is, I'll see _you_ later." He said as he turned and went through the bulkhead. Testament gave him a look like he was mentally trying to decapitate him at that point, but he soon followed after.

Dizzy looked somewhat uncomfortable on seeing Testament leave and nearly called out, but she was soon distracted by May as she came forward and reached into the box, and turned her attention back to her.

"I'll help you put it on. I just hope we got the holes in the back right…"

* * *

By the time the bulkhead opened again, the rest of the Jellyfish Air Pirates, minus Johnny, were already assembled outside in the common area and waiting. They tensed slightly on seeing the door open, and relaxed just as quickly when they noticed it was just May. However, her own face was anything but friendly as she gave them all a glare.

"Now _be nice_." She harshly whispered. "Don't look at her like she's got a pig growing out of her forehead! Johnny and I told you all she was cool!" She nearly ducked back in, but paused to look back out again. "And don't make fun of her black…green…gray wing-thing! It doesn't have a sense of humor!"

Taking a moment to calm after that, she ducked back inside and spoke out in a much more cheerful voice. "You can come out now, Dizzy!"

"Um…um…I'm…not sure… Is this really…appropriate?"

"Of course it is! You look great! You'll fit right in!"

"…Are you sure?"

"Come on! Let everyone get a look at you!"

May leaned out and stepped to one side, leaving the door ajar. A moment later, the door opened slightly more. Rubbing one arm with the other one and looking a bit uncomfortable, the Gear stepped out into the common area.

Assuming her old injury on her chest was still bothering her in the least, she didn't show it. Rather, she seemed a bit self-conscious about her new clothes. She was now dressed similar to the rest of the Jellyfish Air Pirates; a takeoff of an old women's "sailor suit" only showing more bare skin. With May's help, she had redone her hair and put it behind a bandanna now covering most of her scalp, and a brand new yellow bow was tied on the end of her tail. Her two wings were semi-extended out of special slits in the back of her uniform, but they were only wings right now. If one could bring themselves to ignore her more unusual appendages, in fact, she looked like little more than a shy girl.

Once she was fully out, she looked up; meeting gazes with the rest of the Jellyfish Air Pirates. To one extent or another, many of them were still a bit on edge like April had been. Luckily, that changed rather quickly. On seeing the Gear emerge in a uniform just like theirs, self-consciously holding one of her arms, digging one of her new shoes against the deck, and looked around timidly, it had a welcome effect. Just as Johnny and May had both hoped, she looked just like the rest of them only with wings and a tail. Just as uncertain. Just as shaken up as the day they were all found. Just as nervous about where she found herself.

Just as human.

After looking about a bit, Dizzy gave a bit of a start at the realization. "You're…all dressed like me."

"Well, duh." May answered with a smile. "More like you're all dressed like us. Here's the crew! There's Janis…"

 _"_ _Meow."_

"Febby…"

"He…hello there."

"March…"

"Hi!"

"You know April…"

"Hello…again…"

"June…"

"Um…salutations, ma'am."

"July…"

"Scar on your chest, eh? Sounds neat."

"Augus…"

A thumbs up.

"Sephy…"

"G-G-Greetings."

"Octy…"

"Oh good. I hoped I got your size right…"

"Novel…"

"Can you actually fly with those? I mean…hi!"

"And last but not least…Leap!"

"Hello, dearie."

Dizzy looked around from one to another. Some were more at ease than the others, but the anxiety didn't trouble the girl that much. Anxiety could be dealt with. Most of those she ran into employed some form of violence or hate. She held a hand to her mouth as she looked about. She stood there uncertainly, and looked over all of them again after she was done. Then a third time. After a while, a few of the girls looked a bit uncertain themselves at her reaction.

"Um…is…something wrong, Dizzy?" May finally asked.

"You are all…human."

"Um…yes. Yes we are. Uh, except Janis, of course."

"And…" She looked to May. "You're…not afraid…to be near me?"

A moment of silence passed, before May softened and stepped forward. "Of course we aren't, Dizzy." She spoke in a more friendly voice as she took one of her hands. Dizzy nearly recoiled at the touch, not expecting it, but on feeling someone take her hand warmly she rapidly eased. She seemed to enjoy the sensation. "Like I said, you're my friend. And now you've got a whole bunch of new friends." She turned and gestured around the room. "This here is your new family."

Now the Gear really did give a surprised start. "My…my new…?"

Leap decided to take that moment to jump in. "Here…Dizzy, was it? I make one of these whenever someone new joins the crew." She stood to one side, revealing the meeting table behind it. Dizzy looked up and over, and saw something had been concealed behind the woman until now. Namely a large sheet cake decorated with frosting and candles, all of which were lit.

May gestured to it. "Ta-da! There you go!"

April moved up to the cake, took it on one side, and held it up. Frosted lettering became legible, and on looking it over Dizzy read the words and gave another start.

"'Happy Birthday…Dizzy'…?"

"Anytime someone new joins the crew, that day is their new birthday." April spoke up. She ventured a weak smile. "And we, uh, kind of lucked out when you came on board. It's still December, which means you're our new December!"

"We finally got ourselves a full year!" July cheered.

"And we figured 'Dizzy' is close enough to 'Decy' so even your name works out!" Novel added.

Dizzy looked over the room again and the progressively smiling faces. While her wings remained normal, she looked more troubled and confused. "I…I…I really don't understand… Crew? Family? Birthday…?"

"Yeah, it's kind of a lot to take in, isn't it?" May answered simply, moving in front of her and keeping hold of her hand. The Gear looked up to her as she clasped her other hand on hers.

"Here's the bottom line, Dizzy. The girls and I and our captain, Johnny…you see…" Her voice turned a bit lower and more serious. "The truth is…we're outcasts too. A lot of people in the world think we're thieves and bandits, but we try to do a lot of good. It doesn't matter for what country or who's in trouble, we try to help out people who are in a bad spot. And one of the ways Johnny helps people out is he finds girls like us." She gestured to herself and everyone. "All of us lost everything at one point. We all didn't have anywhere to go, no family, no friends, and nothing. He found us and brought us on board…so now? Now we're all each other's family and friends and place to go. And well, Johnny…and _me_ , for that matter…we want _you_ to join the family too."

Dizzy's eyes widened again, clearly stunned at that, although she didn't look away. "M…me?"

"Well, sure. You don't have anywhere to go. Well that's great! Neither do we. Our home is this ship and it takes us anywhere in the world. Since we're never on the ground that long, no one can harass us. We're free to go anywhere we like. We always have each other's backs. We all look out for one another. Now none of us are scared or alone anymore and we don't have anyone hunting us. If you want…" She leaned in closer, looking more hopeful. "You can have that too. We can become your family. You won't be alone anymore. You'll be safe with us and free to go anywhere in the world. We'll look out for you and you'll look out for us."

The Gear still looked surprised, though in a different way now. She was rendered mute. She looked up and over the room, seeing everyone still looking at her. Her face turned, but she said nothing. Somewhere in that red gaze of hers, May thought she saw something new. It wasn't something that Dizzy had experienced much of before, and it seemed like the very feeling was shaking her up.

"I…I don't understand… I can't understand…" She spoke more quietly. "You're…you're being…nice to me. I'm…a Gear… Humans and Gears can't live together…"

"Dizzy."

This was a bit more firmer and forceful, and it caused the Gear to look up to May. Her own smile had faded more.

"You're different from other Gears, aren't you?"

The girl blinked, not expecting that.

"Well if there are Gears out there who aren't like others, you better believe there are humans out there who aren't like others. And there's a lot more of us than you think. Us misfits have got to stick together, and _we_ say you belong here." She smiled a bit more again. "So…what do you say? Would you like some of that birthday cake?"

The Gear didn't answer, but she seemed taken again by that. She looked up back to the others. Perhaps there was a trace of hesitation, but not much. On seeing the infamous Gear face to face and watching her react as innocently and confused as the rest of them had been, they now smiled at her more warmly and wholeheartedly. Dizzy again looked over herself. This time, she focused on her clothes, her arms, her legs, even the bow in her tail. She looked back up to the others; seeing them in uniforms so similar to her own. Seeing how much they looked just like her. How they could see her wings and tail and were still smiling…

At that, at long last, she began to smile as well.

"I…I think I will try some, May."

* * *

"Exactly how long do you honestly expect this little arrangement to last?"

"Optimistically speaking? Oh…the rest of our lives. Why not?"

Testament leveled a cold stare at Johnny. Even being back on the safety of the May Ship, a place he knew like the back of his own hand, and knowing his faithful crew was nearby on a few corridors down in the common room, the man was glad for his sunglasses once again. They masked the anxiety he felt when looking at him. He had to remember that their brief truce had changed little. This man had nearly killed May once, and was far from an ally. And considering the fact that their actions had done little to change his demeanor, he knew there wasn't much stopping him from doing something as insane as he had tried at Tiergarten right here with the May Ship itself.

It was times like this he wished the others they were waiting for at the rendezvous point were there already.

"This changes nothing. It doesn't change the nature of your species. How you hate our kind."

He shrugged in response. "Don't know if you've been paying attention recently, friend. But seems to me we all put our heads on the line to save her life. If you thought we were just luring her in here to snuff her, we're rather bad at it."

"And as soon as that knowledge is revealed," The pale man answered. "You'll be hunted as badly as she is. Am I really to believe that any human would accept that burden for a Gear?"

"We're already wanted. What do we gain by trying to come clean with her? Either a prison sentence or bullets to the head." Johnny answered with a shrug. "We're all in the same boat."

His teeth began to clench. "Do _not_ liken your plight to our own." He nearly hissed. "What exactly do you plan to do with her? Put her to her intended use and have her fight your battles for you? I'm sure using a Gear offensively would enhance your reputation considerably."

"Actually," Johnny casually answered, scratching the side of his head. "We could use someone to do the laundry and the shopping."

Testament glared even more coldly at the man in black.

He shrugged. "What? She's a pacifist, isn't she? Don't think I'm so mean to ask a girl to fight, are you?"

He recoiled a moment later when Testament surged forward, suddenly getting right in his face. In an instant, his hand was out and seizing him by the lapel. In spite of his brave façade, Johnny felt his heart begin to pound. He almost felt coldness radiating off the Gear.

"The only reason I haven't already killed you and your crew and taken her is because I don't have the power at this time. Is this a joke to you? Or do you think I'm a fool? You intend for her to walk around? Among humans?"

Suppressing a swallow, Johnny shrugged. "Well, she should get around, shouldn't she? No one knows what she looks like…no one still alive or who's talking, at any rate. She just looks like an innocent girl. She can hide those wings and tail too. No one will ever suspect a thing."

"And what if they _do?_ " He sharply answered. "What then? Do you think this flying ironclad can defend against the entire world? Are you expecting me to believe you'd kill your own species for her? And even if you were, what chance would you have? You have no idea what it's like to be hunted by mankind. I do. You can't keep her safe."

"Neither can you."

Testament actually gave just a hint of a start, indicating surprise. He turned his head behind him, and Johnny used the moment to look over his shoulder. Much to his own surprise, someone had just popped in on the May Ship, in spite of the fact the ground bulkheads were sealed and security alarms had been armed. Yet he supposed if anyone could, it would be this fellow.

Sol stood leaning against the wall at the end of the corridor. If he was in pain or injured from the situation in Berlin, he certainly didn't show it. He simply kept his arms crossed and gave the slightest hint of a smirk at the Gear holding Johnny.

"But there's one big difference between them and you." He went on. "They're what she needs right now more than anything. You aren't."

Testament snorted as he released Johnny, much to the man's relief, and turned fully to Sol. "Really now. She needs the company of those who would see her slain or enslaved."

"Humans call Gears genocidal murderers. I'd say trying to blow up Tiergarten Reactor to cover your escape, ignoring how many millions would die as a result, justifies that definition rather concisely."

The Gear had no answer to that. He simply stood silently. "…I did what I had to do to protect her. No less."

"You may very well be right that Gears and humans can never coexist. But if there's even the slightest, remotest chance that they can, _you'll_ never allow it. You won't even let her consider it as a possibility. You'll force her to live in a world where she needs to kill or be killed even when you see humans willing to live alongside her right in front of you. In forcing her to live that way to survive, you'll be forcing humanity to kill her to survive. You'll create your own nightmare and, in the end, you'll do exactly what you hate humans so much for."

His head lowered, letting him look more squarely at Testament.

"You'll use her as a tool to further your own agenda."

The sound of Testament's fist clenching was audible. The pale man actually gave a shudder of anger. And yet, in spite of that, he did not respond.

"Don't kid yourself. This was already decided without you before Berlin even happened. At this point your consent is merely appreciated; not required. If the laughter upstairs is any indication, she's already made her own choice. Like you said, you can't do anything about it now. That little gesture you made just now…" The bounty hunter waved at him. "Probably took everything you managed to recover over the past few days. Of course, you will recover. And when you do nothing will stop you from trying to do just as you threaten. But I have a sinking suspicion she won't be too eager to go with you when you do. _Especially_ if you hurt these people. You might very well find yourself on the receiving end of her power in that case. Is that what you want?" He shifted weight slightly. "Or would you prefer to cut your losses, wish her well, and retain the privilege of visitation rights?"

Testament again remained silent. He glared silently at Sol. Johnny himself didn't dare say anything, but he knew, and figured the Gear knew, that everything he said was true. Frankly, he hated the idea of Testament "dropping in" every now and then, but he hated the idea of him trying to kill them all even more.

After a time, he took in a deep breath. Without changing, he turned back to Johnny. His voice was quieter now.

"Do the _slightest_ thing to hurt her, and I'll know." He finally said. "And you and your species will pay a thousand fold for it."

Without another word, he turned and walked off to one side, back to the bulkhead leading to the service ladder upstairs. Johnny didn't move; didn't dare betray any emotion. And even though Testament managed to move through the hollow, metal ship without making the slightest noise, somehow he knew when he had left the area because he didn't move a muscle until he was gone. Only then did he let out an exhale. After that, he looked up to Sol.

"Been a while since I said thank you to another man."

"He was right about almost everything he said, you know." The bounty hunter answered as he began to rise off the wall. "I don't envy what will happen to you and your crew if anyone ever finds out she's still alive and on this ship. The wrath she'll vent will likely make Adelwolf look favorable. She _does_ have a murderous side in that wing of hers."

"Like I said," He shrugged. "We live with threats to our lives every day." He cracked a grin. "Makes life more enjoyable, eh?"

Sol finished pulling himself off the wall, turned, and began to walk down his own corridor.

"I certainly hope so…because I have a feeling you're in for a great deal of enjoyment very soon."

Johnny's smile faltered. He leaned up further and put his hands to his sides. "What do you mean by that?"

The man didn't answer. He had only been walking slowly, but he already made it to his turn toward the ventral hatch. He turned it and vanished, leaving the pirate standing there staring-his look not nearly as devil-may-care as it was a moment ago.

* * *

Driving any vehicle with one arm in a sling and a bad leg was a challenge, but fortunately for Ky his bike to replace the one Millia Rage had stolen seemingly an eternity ago was easy enough to drive. That was true in any urban environment, but also true of the overgrown wilds of the English countryside. Even with one good arm, it was easy to auto-route his way north to Edinburgh. While the country was again deserted, there had been extensive operations in it following the incident with Justice. To airlift men and equipment there more readily, the old airfields in Edinburgh had been cleaned up and repaired enough to make a landing strip. The general public and even most peacekeeping authorities weren't aware of the action, and it had been abandoned two months ago. It made it the perfect spot to land the May Ship for repairs and refueling while waiting for the Europe-wide air sweep for signs of the missing Gear to die down. Now that the search was terminated, they could depart soon.

As Ky left the woods and began to drive up to it, he saw the engines were already running and shifted into idle. It seemed he had been more than a bit late to see everyone off. He did spot one lookout near the top with what looked like an old collapsible telescope of all things, and she ran in as soon as he was in visual range, but he wasn't too worried. He was expected, after all. Other than that person, he saw no other signs of life for most of his approach, although the ship itself was open and its ventral gangplank deployed.

That changed as he began to slow down on his approach. There were some odd bits of broken down equipment and spent containers piled around the ship. As this site was abandoned, there was little need for trash duty. Half-reclined on one was a younger man with silver hair and a number of bandaged injuries. By the time Ky slowed his bike to a stop, he recognized him as one of the members of their little operation.

The ninja tensed slightly on seeing the side of Ky's vehicle open up and who was inside walk out. Even not in the best of shape, after all, this was not only a formidable man but one of the most infamous members of the IPF. And in spite of working earlier, the operation was over now. All bets were now off.

Yet Ky didn't focus on that. His face wasn't exactly friendly, but neither was it threatening. As soon as he was out, he drew himself up and faced the man without approaching. His eyes glanced him over.

"Looks like you made it out of Berlin."

Chipp smirked and snorted. "Why, you make it sound so easy. Here I thought our little mission was the hard part… I didn't even know I could pull half the stuff I did to get out of there. And injured to boot… I'm still feeling like a piece of meat after running into the guy with the fans…"

Ky reacted to that. "…He was there?"

"Sure was. Tried to cut in on the action and he ended up nearly sabotaging our bombs to do it."

Ky's face grew rather puzzled. "He was trying to prevent what we were doing?"

"Well…that and off me for getting in the way."

"But…why?"

"Hell if I know. I'd say to ask him yourself except I've got no idea where he's gone to. Last I saw him I knocked him clean out of the parking garage. Was so busy finishing up I really didn't have time to look around before I ran off myself… I figured he might be dead, but no word about recovering a body last time I checked the news."

"What about the fans?"

Both Chipp as well as Ky gave a sharper start at that, wheeling around to the bottom of the ship. They discovered that Sol, totally unheard, had come up to them without making a sound of his boots clicking against the metal gangplank. He was already leaning against one of the hydraulic pistons by the time they spotted him. However, his face was once again in a more terse expression, similar to when he had looked more serious earlier.

Chipp himself blinked after a moment. "What about them?"

"Did the authorities recover his fans?"

He shrugged. "Beats me."

"What's so important about those fans?" Ky spoke up.

"They were part of the Overdrive."

Ky immediately stiffened. "That's…impossible."

"I think I would know, Ky."

"But…" He looked down to his side, toward the Thunderseal, then back over to Sol and his own weapon strapped to his back. "They looked nothing like it…"

"Neither do our weapons. That's not important. They change shape when they're not part of the whole."

Ky was silent after that. Chipp, clueless on his part, looked between the two of them a moment before he sighed. "I'm sorry, did I miss something? What's the 'Overdrive'?"

The IPF officer didn't answer. As for Sol, he stood there a moment long before simply standing from his spot.

"That man was Japanese descent. No question about it. It would have been newsworthy if they had found his body."

Ky frowned. "Seems as if we're having all sorts from mysterious Japanese people..."

"Oh yes," Sol spoke up, looking to the man. "Speaking of which, I haven't seen you look that terrible in a while, Ky. If this was a different situation, I might make some juvenile comment that you got your ass beat by a one-armed girl."

The IPF officer restrained his anger although he seemed to steam a moment, but then sharply relaxed. "I used to think I had seen people who wanted revenge on Gears of all kinds. But her? She was something else..."

"How so?"

"It was like she had nothing else but that. I almost expected them to spot her somewhere else. After everything she did, I find it hard to believe that even after all that she would have died." He looked down and shook his head. "I'd never seen someone so driven by hate. Not even..." He trailed off, swallowing a bit before trying to speak again. "And yet..." He trailed off again there.

Sol looked up a bit more. "What?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "It doesn't matter. No one could have survived that. It's just...just me indulging baseless fantasy."

Chipp looked to Sol, and saw that the man didn't quite let it go at that. He continued to stare at Ky for a moment. Yet after a time, he finally looked away again and to the ground.

"Not exactly in the best shape, Ky. But for the sake of old times I have to ask." He said with a faint smile. "Now that all is over and done with, you find yourself surrounded by a group of criminals including your favorite manhunt target. What exactly do you plan to do about that?"

The ninja tensed up. He looked back to Ky. His ever-present blade on his arm shifted very slightly although he didn't get ready. As for Ky, he looked over them both for a moment, and toward the May Ship itself; knowing full well who all was contained inside.

After a moment, he sighed. "You know full well I could do nothing even if I wanted to. I can't try to bring any of you in without the whole plan coming out, and I doubt my superiors will overlook my actions or understand that it was to spare an innocent life. Besides...I already committed myself to this." His eyes narrowed. "Unlike certain others, I am a man of my word."

This only made Sol smirk more. "You'll have to forgive me for having a touch of suspicion after all these years, especially since I honestly thought the only reason you agreed to this was because you believed you had been blacklisted by the International Police Force. Rather interesting that you somehow managed to scrape by with a commendation instead of even a slap on the wrist."

"I didn't cheat the system or abuse my authority, if that's what you're insinuating." Ky retorted. "Are you trying to provoke me into seeing how well _you_ are fairing, Sol? You look casual enough but I know you're not one who would show off any wounds that he had..."

"Sheesh, you kids. You're worse than the girls on shopping day."

The three men, recognizing the voice of Johnny, looked up to the gangplank. The man in black himself was descending it right now with May, sporting her huge anchor casually slung over one shoulder, closely at his side. She regarded the three with lingering apprehension but it seemed she wouldn't "bite" unless her captain told her to. He reached the bottom and put his hands on his hips, one of them on the handle of his cane concealing his blade.

Ky motioned to both weapons. "Why are you both armed?"

"I'm not one of the most wanted men in the world, and a fugitive from international prison, because I play things safe." Johnny smirked. "If someone hadn't already claimed that bounty I might have the whole crew out here telling you three to get lost before you wear out your welcome. On that note..." He turned his head over to Ky. "Not really too comfortable with that motorcycle thing you got there. How do I know it's not a tracking beacon?"

The man sighed for a second time. "If I tell someone where to find you, they find Dizzy. I'm not eager for that."

"So, we're safe because we've got a Gear with us?" Johnny chuckled. "See? She's protecting life already."

Ky frowned. "Keep in mind that just because _I_ am willing to look the other way, the rest of the International Police Force and every other government that wants your head is not. And it will only take one incident-"

"Relax, relax...you're as bad as the cross-dresser." He snorted, waving his hand. "She's not going to do anything to risk getting her face pasted all over the wanted posters. But I have to wonder how you _did_ get here."

"I disclosed the location of the airfield. The rest of the IPF secrets remain our propriety." Ky answered. "And I'm only here the same reason as the rest of you, to make sure everything went well. It didn't really look that way when I saw you the last time."

"She's doing great now." May interrupted. "Has been for a couple days. That doctor really came through for us. I still can't believe it..."

Ky blinked. "Really? But she was stabbed through the chest..."

"Well, she's walking, talking, blinking, and pumping blood." The pirate shrugged. "Eating cake and ice cream last I saw."

"So what happened to him then?"

May swished her mouth. "Well..."

* * *

 _Five Days Earlier_

With one final push, the man in the paper bag mask stopped. Ignoring the sound of the exploding hovercraft, the roaring wind, and the blaring engine, he leaned down and put his head to the recently-stitched chest of the Gear and listened. At the same time, his spindly fingers went out and felt her wrists. A moment later, he leaned up. In spite of his obscured face, he already looked enthused.

"The operation was a success!"

May was nearly stunned to hear that. It seemed to defy belief. Yet as she looked down, she couldn't deny it. While still looking terrible, the color had returned to Dizzy's face. She was faintly breathing again. As impossible as it was, the doctor had saved her life.

Testament, looking even weaker, struggled to look up to her. His face had remarkably turned soft for once, seeing her alive and breathing again. He was rendered nearly speechless. As such, he had little reaction as the doctor removed the equipment from his arm and put it away as hastily as he had put Dizzy's chest back together. May looked away from her and back up to him.

"You…you did it… You saved her life… But who-"

"No need to thank me." He cut off, having already repacked his bag and now closing it. A moment later, he reached for the same umbrella as before. "Just your friendly, neighborhood, back-alley doctor for you."

Before May or anyone else could say another word, the man undid the umbrella and held it up. A second later, the draft from the rapidly moving vehicle caught the accessory, and in an instant the man was taken up along with it and gone; vanishing into the air and into the night.

* * *

"…And that was the last we saw of him." May finished. "Weird, but…the way he moved and that big scalpel he had…"

Ky scratched his chin for a moment. "While I've been chasing Dizzy, there's been reports to the IPF that in the past couple weeks some sort of mystery doctor has been running around and patching people up at random with miracle cures. I didn't believe it myself from some of the stories. One claimed he reattached a man's head; spinal cord and all. But on hearing this…" He looked up. "She's really alright now?"

"Great." Johnny smiled. "She's a little skittish about the new duds, but she'll get used to them."

"Don't any of you worry about her." May added. "She's in better hands now than she was before, believe me."

"Says the internationally-wanted pirate..." Chipp groaned.

"And the irony is that's still true." Sol shrugged in response to that aside.

The first mate's look shifted to a frown as she stared at Ky. "It's _you_ who I'm worried about. You seemed to get through all of this clean as a whistle. And you got here no problem either."

Ky grit his teeth momentarily. "As I said before you came out, I'm not here to arrest any of you. As to how I managed to get through this incident with my record intact, I'm as surprised as the rest of you. I don't know why that would have happened."

"If I had to guess," Sol suddenly interjected. "I'd say it had to do with someone wanting to keep you in circulation."

Not only Ky, but everyone else looked up at that; although the former gave him a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"

Sol's smile faded. "I don't suppose the IPF has been talking too much about what happened in the building adjacent to the parking garage, have they?"

The captain hesitated. "…No, but now that you mention it, that was rather bizarre. Everyone's been so focused on what happened to Dizzy, myself included, that I really didn't think about how that building went off when we were never supposed to hit it." He raised an eyebrow. "But I'm guessing you know, Sol? That you might even be responsible?"

An uneasy pause went over everyone after that. While the degree of how they all knew Sol Badguy differed, one thing for sure was that they rarely saw him looking genuinely troubled or concerned. That changed right now. For once, his expression had turned grim.

"I fought something out there. Some sort of machine. A combat robot built to fight hand-to-hand like a humanoid. It was a bit crude, but against most other opponents it would have been more than a match. I think it would have given any one of you a hard time even if you were at your best."

Silence passed over the group. They all looked to one another. "…Are you serious?" Chipp finally asked.

"Magic weapons have gotten pretty advanced, but I've never heard of anyone making a…well, a 'robot fighter'." May threw in.

"Just the same, that's what it was." Sol answered, leaning around to one of his arms. He turned it over and revealed a rather nasty-looking bruise on it. "That's just one of a couple marks he gave me."

"But why was it there?" The ninja asked.

Johnny turned his head to Ky. "The IPF have some sort of new toy they decided to bring out for Christmas?"

Ky, who had looked rather unsettled at all of this, shook his head. "We don't have that sort of technology. And there's no magical drone AI that's compressible enough into a humanoid shell. Even if there was, it wouldn't be as effective as a combat unit." He focused on Sol, in particular his injury. "But you're telling me that not only does this thing exist, but that it actually managed to _hurt_ you?"

Sol smirked. "I _was_ still reeling from Dizzy, but I get your point, Ky. And yes. You told me what I wanted to know, though. It didn't belong to the International Police Force…at least as far as you know."

He frowned. "We're not a cloak-and-dagger organization, Sol. We'd never be able to operate internationally if that was the case."

"German military, then?" Johnny suggested. "Figured it would be better than a hovering battleship this time?"

"Unlikely." Sol answered. "There's a reason I wanted to hear it from Ky. You see…" He focused fully on the former Sacred Order member. "It was made in _your_ image."

The man gave a start on hearing that. The others looked up. "…What do you mean?"

"It was fashioned to look like _you_. The face was crude. But the posture, the clothes, the synthetic hair… It even carried a sword made to look like the Fuuraiken."

Ky went still. His face actually looked uneasy. It seemed as much ill will as he harbored toward Sol, he knew when he was telling the truth at times like this. And the others, on seeing his reaction, knew that it had to be real as well. That made them likewise uneasy.

"I still think it could have been the Germans…" Johnny finally mused. "But why make it look like him?"

"You don't happen to have anything of this machine left, do you?" Ky asked.

He shook his head. "If you're wondering why the other building exploded, now you know. Whoever sent that machine out seemed to trigger it to self-destruct if it looked like it was going to fail."

Ky's mouth twisted. "Then it's likely the only reason it was deployed to begin with was due to the storm. Few people would have noticed it between the snow and confusion."

"We _do_ think alike." Sol smirked, causing Ky to frown a bit deeper in response. "I'm not sure what that machine meant or why it was there, but now we all have something to look out for. And _you_ , Ky, have something to investigate besides me."

He kept frowning, but he didn't argue that point. He stared at Sol a bit longer, but then his head turned to face behind Johnny. The man in black and his first mate also turned. Seconds later, May sprang back in alarm while Johnny, barely keeping from doing it himself, quickly backpedaled down the ramp. Chipp on his part stood up and readied his weapon, while Ky just coldly stared, barely keeping his hand from going for his sword hilt. In the end, the only reason he was able to be so calm was who was with him.

Two more individuals had chosen that moment to walk out: Testament and Dizzy herself, still dressed in her new attire. The coldness of the surrounding air didn't seem to phase either of them as the former escorted the latter. Her own face was a mix of emotions, but was mostly sadness at the moment from seeing her first friend and ally for so long going away. Testament's own face showed nothing but coldness. Soon both were outside and at the head of the ramp, and looked down over the others below.

They held a moment, Testament glaring down on all of them, before he turned back to Dizzy. For a moment, his face actually grew lighter, perhaps even slightly warm, before he leaned in and whispered something to her. She smiled back, indicating that it was something innocent. After all, he had been given time to say a proper goodbye to her already per his arrangement with the Jellyfish Air Pirates. After doing so, he reached up and took a moment to adjust her wardrobe slightly, and ended with turning up one of the new yellow ribbons in her hair. She smiled a bit more at that.

With that done, he looked away and back to the others. He took two more steps forward, so that his face was well away from Dizzy's and she couldn't see it. Only then did he become cold and hostile again. He glared at all of them briefly, but finally to Ky. He nearly sneered, yet forced himself to suppress it. After that he looked out.

"…Another time."

Ky thought that this comment was directed to Sol, and he found himself looking behind to see his reaction. Yet to his surprise, that distraction was too long. There was no one standing where Sol had been except for empty air. He had run off again, leaving no trace in his wake. A part of the former captain bristled at how he just left out of the blue at that once again yet he calmed quickly. After what he had done with Dizzy earlier, it was probably best he not be present to upset her again.

As for the older Gear, with tremendous strain, looking like his cheeks were sinking in from the action, Testament traced one of his symbols on the air in blood, producing his scythe once again. After that, looking like it strained him even further, he grasped it with both hands and slowly and stiffly cut an arc in the air for him to move through.

Ky himself thought for a moment of stopping him now. Dizzy might have been innocent, but Testament was not. He had tried to revive Justice once already, and no doubt had intended Dizzy to replace her. There was a good chance he'd find other humans to hurt for one reason or another, and now when he was this weakened would be the greatest chance he'd ever receive to stop him for good. Yet Ky knew the same as the others. If he tried to stop him now, let alone strike him down, it would be right in front of Dizzy. And while she might not have agreed with his philosophy anymore, she was still his friend. Attacking him under a peaceful pretense would only reinforce everything he had been trying to warp Dizzy with, and in the end if she unleashed her power there was nothing any of them could do to stop it.

Aside from that, at least for Ky, when he looked at the innocent, almost child-like face of the Gear, he realized he didn't really want to do anything to upset it. He never thought he'd be one to think this, but on seeing Gears like her, looking so human, and remembering how his final moments with Justice went, he couldn't help but feel she had seen enough fighting over her.

With that in mind, Testament passed into the gate and soon it closed up behind him. The group was left with Dizzy. On seeing herself faced with all of them, her emotions changed again. While she no longer showed the same fear as before, she still seemed hesitant on looking them over, somewhat nervously crossing her hands in front of herself. There were a few moments of silence.

Finally, Johnny cupped a fist to his mouth and coughed. "Well, we never want to stay in the same place too long. Especially with hastily-made allies and in an airfield marked for IPF use…" He murmured. "Repairs are done and the young lady is back on her feet, so…this is where we're going to take our leave."

"So where do we all go from here?" May ventured. "I mean…" She looked at Ky. "Tomorrow are you going to be after us or something?"

Ky was silent momentarily before frowning. "I haven't been assigned to try and bring the Jellyfish Air Pirates in since I started my career in the IPF. It would be strange if they wanted me to start now. And if they did…" He paused, looking a bit hesitant. "…I think I can find other cases better suited to myself to do first."

"I think I've personally had my fill of Europe." Chipp grunted. "I think I'll head back to the Americas to let my bones finish knitting." He hesitated after saying this, but then smirked a bit as he got up.

"As wild as a ride as it was, I think Tsuyoshi might actually say I did something right for once."

"Everyone…"

It was Dizzy who had spoken this time. At once, all attention was back on her. She still looked nervous, but looked up at all of them.

"You all risked so much to help me… You could have died…to help me. I…I honestly didn't think anyone would ever do that… I don't know how to thank you."

There was a moment of unified silence from everyone. Johnny at length was the one who smirked and adjusted his hat.

"Truth is we all had our own reasons. Some personal and some not, young lady. None of us are wanting anything back. We already got what we came for by going through with it, so…what do you say we just leave it at that?"

May shrugged. "Like I said, it's what friends do."

"You can pay be back by staying out of trouble, alright?" Chipp answered as he wiped his forehead. "Don't want to have to sneak around a couple governments again…"

Ky found himself opening his mouth to say one thing, only to close it again. He stood there silently a moment, before drawing himself up. "A person needed help. That's all the excuse I needed."

Dizzy turned to Ky, focusing on him for a few fateful moments. It seemed she remembered him back from the roof at that time, and her eyes seemed to take him in more now that she had a chance. She stared for a long while before she finally looked away and smiled again. Her head bowed.

"If that's what you all wish, then thank you. I'll never forget what you all did for me. And…" She hesitated, then looked up and smiled wider. "…I hope I'll see you all again very soon."

No one answered that part immediately. They weren't exactly sure if that would be possible. Johnny and May knew they would be on the run again, and Chipp on his part wasn't expecting to ever see her again after this. Yet after a time, one gesture was made that caused heads to turn again.

Suddenly, Ky stepped forward. Ignoring his injuries, he crossed one arm in front of himself in a sign of respect. After taking a moment, as if debating mentally whether or not to do this, he suddenly bowed to the Gear. Dizzy was rather taken aback, her face filling with surprise.

"I'm looking forward to the next time we meet…" Just a hint of a pause, before the last part seemed almost forced out. "…My lady."

May's own eyes nearly bugged out of her head. Johnny's jaw nearly loosened. Both of them looked back to Dizzy. She stared blankly back at Ky, her face showing nothing but awkwardness and surprise at this answer. She was silent momentarily, as the initial shock of the gesture wore off. Yet when it did and she began to ease again, both May and Johnny saw it for a moment before she relaxed into one of her pleasant smiles again.

Ever-so-briefly, she blushed.

"Thank you, Captain Kiske."

Chipp was already long gone by the time the May Ship roared to full life and took to the skies. Ky alone was left to watch it depart, face being nearly blasted raw by the cold winds venting from below, as it rose into the sky and took off for places unknown even to him. It was an odd feeling to say the least. There had been times in his life where he would have been infuriated with himself at being forced to stand there and watch the May Ship and the Jellyfish Air Pirates take off. And now he was just standing there letting them go. Good intentions or not, they were still criminals after all. However, he had a feeling, like it or not, a lot of things about him and his views of right and wrong were going to have to change.

It took a full minute for the roar of the airship to die down, and Ky was left alone. Only then did he turn and head back to his vehicle. There was much to be done yet. Central Europe was still a mess along with his body, and there was no telling what would come next. Dizzy was now taken care of, but the fact that she had arisen in the first place was concerning enough. Long had many of the remaining Gears been unaccounted for. To have one that wasn't in a vegetative state was remarkable enough.

But he also knew how Testament had been fiercely protective of her. More fervent, seemingly, than he had been of Justice. It occurred to him that it didn't quite add up why, out of the remaining Gears that still hadn't been destroyed, Testament would have placed so much importance on her.

 _Why did he place so much importance on Justice, though? That's simple…she was a Command Gear. She was the one who could have awakened the others and restarted the Crusades._

 _It couldn't really be possible that…_

Ky cut that line of thinking off, even as more thoughts began to come to him. Justice was the only humanoid female Gear he had ever encountered. And now that he thought on it, Dizzy was, by far, the most human-like Gear he had ever witnessed. Enough to where one might think that…

Before he could think any further, he reached his vehicle and opened the door. In spite of the fact that he had it locked, the moment it opened he saw something waiting for him on his seat: a small paper note.

He stared at it for a moment, bewildered that it was even there, before he frowned. There was only one who could have done that…or, rather, one that he would have expected to do that. Sighing, he leaned over and plucked it off of the seat. Bringing it back up to him he opened it.

Sure enough, Sol's handwriting.

 _There's only one group that could have commissioned a robot like the one I encountered, and you and I both know who it is. Keep your eyes on the PWAB. I'm not sure your position at IPF is safe anymore._

Ky's jaw tightened. Being lectured on the safety of his position wasn't something he normally cared to hear out of Sol's mouth. But that said, he thought of what the man had reported seeing, and it made him uncomfortable. It did seem unusual that he had suddenly been pardoned of all potential wrongdoing. Someone wanted to keep him in service, it seemed, even though the Gear was taken care of. And after people had seemed to try and keep him out of it for so long. Now there was this. If Sol was indeed telling the truth, then there had to be a connection…

Yet what he read next on the note soon drove that from his mind, and it was some time on the ride back before he was able to think of the mysterious assailant again.

 _P.S. Make sure you bring flowers next time. I hear women are fond of them._

* * *

"How did a miscommunication that big get through?"

"It was bad timing all around. We gave instructions to purge the records of anything that could be attributable to Ky Kiske. How were we supposed to know he'd end up showing up in the same area as the Mark I unit?"

"Don't worry about that. It'll all work to our advantage. We don't need him leaving IPF duty right when we're about ready to mobilize."

"…We are?"

"The Mark I managed to keep recording data on both its battle with Sol Badguy as well as of Ky Kiske on the adjoining roof. Even when the self-destruct was triggered those backups we built into the CPU successfully transmitted everything before powering down. The latest data is already theorizing to make the Mark II units up to 60% more mobile, 50% stronger, and with 80% more finesse. Best of all, they're in a prime position for mass production. In a month, we can make a hundred of them. And that's just in the early run."

"All of this from that failed copy?"

"We may have missed out on the Gear but this was far from a failure. Combined with the Japanese-descent DNA sampling, I'd say the entire operation was pretty close to a total success. In one month's time we'll be in extraordinary shape. And as for the flesh-and-bone captain, he won't even have full use of that arm."

"In that case, I think it's time, ladies and gentlemen, that we decide how best to ease the last relic of the Crusades into his retirement."

* * *

 _To be concluded..._


	30. Epilogue - One

**"** **Epilogue ~ One"**

* * *

 _One Day Later_

As festive as the bar was done up for the season, complete with holly, red ribbons, candles, and all the trimmings to show this was a classier bar for higher end folk and trying to promote a warm and welcome atmosphere, it clashed rather hard with the heavy metal music blaring out of the old fashioned jukebox.

Yet perhaps that hardly mattered. After all, if anyone was still around at 3 AM in the morning in the French town to look through the windows, they'd see the place void of life save for a single scantily clad woman in skin-tight leather-imitation clothes seated at the bar. She had little respect for it, having leaned back and put her overly thick heels on the counter, and was guzzling one of several of the 180 proof bottles that had been on hand, now arranged haphazardly in front of her. As she relaxed from the bottle momentarily, she leaned her head back momentarily and soaked in the music.

Somehow over the din, she heard a small beeping noise from nearby.

She remained leaned back for a moment, then slowly leaned up. A hand went out and grasped a remote that the owners of the bar had long since wired into the old system, and she used it to shut it off. Leaning back over on the bar, she reached into her pocket and removed the beeping device: a small rectangular tablet. She placed it on the counter and opened it up. The image of the man on the other end, or at least his outline, was already displayed.

 _"_ _Where are you?"_

She leaned over, propping her head on one hand, and smirked. "Just getting a little late-Christmas, early-New Year's party in. I figured you wouldn't mind."

A pause. _"…So long as you don't 'leave a mess', I won't. I'm back from Berlin."_

The eyes lifted. "You really did go out there personally? I could have handled it."

 _"_ _I know of your propensity for chaos when it comes to crowded places like that. I preferred to deal with it myself."_

"Oh, that's no fun. I could have shown some of those Germans my own little version of the 'Nutcracker Suite'…"

 _"_ _I didn't contact you just to tell you I was back. The hybrid has been moved. Specifically, moved to a mobile location. Fortunately, her main way of hiding now is in fooling the world into thinking she's dead. But as I know_ where _she is, finding her will be simple even if the spot keeps moving around."_

The smile widened. "Is this where I ask whether or not you'd like the little freak plain or gift-wrapped?"

 _"_ _I have no interest in bringing her in. She's more valuable to me for research in the field rather than in an isolated environment. What interests me is that the others have gotten involved with her at this point. Individuals on both Lists A and B. With her as a focal point it would be possible to draw most of them out. And as we have a new…associate who has part of the Oversoul, it would be foolish to waste this opportunity to gauge them all at full strength. I am assigning this task to you."_

"… _All_ of them?"

 _"_ _That's why I'm trusting the task to you. Be advised, Frederick is involved."_

The smile spread enough to show teeth. "Oh, goodie. My first chance for some _real_ fun with some big, strong men in years… I only hope they like to play rough with women…"

The man on the other end turned sharper. _"This isn't about you 'having fun' again. This is a serious assignment. I expect you to carry it out as discretely as possible and with them having no reason to suspect your involvement, let alone mine."_

"Aw, come on. Just a teeny, tiny bit…"

 _"_ _I will give you free license to use whatever means necessary to carry out this assignment, but beyond that you are to do nothing more. Understood?"_

The smile ebbed as she sighed. "Yes, master…" The last word was not spoken sarcastically.

 _"_ _There might be others involved. I'll send you the full listing as well as preliminary information shortly. Best to move on her daughter first. That will provoke the quickest response, especially from Frederick. I'll leave the rest to your own discretion. Don't fail."_

The image vanished.

After a moment, the woman's hand reached up and closed the rectangular device. But as she grasped it and pulled it away to put back in her side, she smiled again.

"Now master…you can't really expect me to finally have a chance to go up against Frederick _and_ Ky and not raise a little Hell as part of the deal, do you?"

Still smiling, she reached over to one of the chairs nearby as she removed her boots from the bar stool, taking up a hat; specifically what looked like a combination cowboy hat/witch's hat. After plopping it on her head, she reached over to her other side and took up a sky blue electric guitar, moving the strap so that it could rest on her back. Once that was done, she grabbed the bottles of high proof liquor, two to each hand by fitting them through her fingers, then hopped off the stood and turned around.

She began to make her way to the front of the bar, having to walk carefully as she did so. That was because the floor of the bar was lined with the remains of its patrons from three hours earlier, most of them soaking in puddles of their own blood. From the looks of them, however, they hadn't been killed by others. Rather, each one had seized whatever they could, whether it be a fork, knife, broken glass, or bottle, and had either cut themselves in their own vitals, beaten their own heads in, or done everything possible to kill themselves. The woman gingerly stepped around all of them, simultaneously dumping the high-proof liquor behind her as she went along in long, messy trails. She whistled a little bit of the last rock tune that had played as she did.

On reaching the front door, she dropped the bottles, letting them break, then fished in her pocket for a book of matches. Striking them once against the door frame to light them, she held the whole burning pack in front of her a moment.

"I always clean up after myself, master."

She tossed the pack over her shoulder, instantly igniting the liquor and spreading flames toward the flammable decorations.

As the entire bar quickly began to catch fire, the woman walked out into the night, headed for the nearest road. One hand went into her pocket while the other one held out a thumb, getting ready to hitchhike.

 _"_ _Now…the world is gone…I'm just one…"_

* * *

THE END

* * *

 **Author's Notes:** And finally, after nine years of work, it's finished. Yes, I started writing this about a month or two after completing "Guilty Gear", but was continuously sidetracked with pretty much every fanfic I've put out since then. The reason posts have been so rapid is due to how long it's taken me to edit the finished story. At any rate, I find it hard to believe the quality hasn't suffered after nearly a decade of on-again, off-again work, but at last it's done.

I'll take the time to go ahead and definitively state I have no plans to ever write a "Guilty Gear XX" fanfic or beyond.

There are multiple reasons for and against this decision. In truth, there were a lot of threads I wanted to expand on. I wanted to have a scene between Sol and That Man. I wanted to bring Axl Low back for a meeting with Raven. As you can see from my epilogue, I was interested in the chance to write for I-No. And, probably most of all, I wanted to at last give the long-hyped Millia vs. Eddie fight to end that story arc.

But, there are a lot of reasons against it too. After "Guilty Gear X", the multiple plotlines and endings get too hard for me to follow. We start getting characters who are too bizarre for me to be able to treat seriously and fit in with the tone of the story (which is why Faust was relegated to a glorified cameo in this one). Writing these various fight scenes is extremely difficult, as is trying to get these stories out of the same local and to find reasons for characters to come together and fight. Most of all, like I said...it took me almost a decade to put out this one. I'm not eager to spend another decade on Guilty Gear. Ultimately, I decided against it.

I hope in spite of being so stale that you enjoyed this story, and that you'll enjoy other fanfics I have written. Catch y'all later.


End file.
